.    / 


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' 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 


BOOKS  BY 
HOLMAN   DAY 

WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS.     Illustrated.     Post  8vo 

BLOW  THE  MAN  DOWN.     Illustrated.     Post  8vo 

THE   LANDLOPER.     Frontispiece.     Post  8vo. 

KING   SPRUCE.     Illustrated.     Post  8vo 

THE    RAMRODDERS.     Frontispiece.     Post  8vo 

THE   RED   LANE.     Illustrated.     Post  8vo 

THE  SKIPPER  AND  THE  SKIPPED.     Frontispiece.     Post  8vo 

SQUIRE   PHIN.     Frontispiece.     Post  8vo 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK 


[See  page  373 
SHE    RAN   TO    ME   AND    THREW    HER    ARMS    AROUND    MY    NECK 


WHERE 
YOUR  TREASURE  IS 

Being  the  Personal  Narrative 
of  Ross  Sidney,  Diver 


BY 

HOLMAN    DAY 

AUTHOR  OF 

"  BLOW  THE  MAN  DOWN  " 
"THE  RED  LANE"  ETC. 


HARPER  y  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 

NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 


WHERE  YOUR  TREASURE  Is 

Copyright.  igi7,  by  Harper  &  Brothers 

Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 

Published    June,  191? 

F-R 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PACK 

I.  BEING  THE  STRUGGLE  OF  AN  AMATEUR  AUTHOR  TO  GET 

A  FAIR  START i 

II.  ENDING  WITH  A  MEETING  ON  PURGATORY  HILL    .    .  8 

III.  ON  ACCOUNT  OF  A  GIRL 18 

IV.  THE  TRAINING  OF  THE  QUEEN  OF  "SHEBY"       .    .  30 

V.  SHOOING  AWAY  A  SCAPEGOAT 44 

VI.  HAVING  TO  Do  WITH  JODREY  VOSE'S  MAKING  OF  A 

DIVER 55 

VII.  THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  A  PLUG-HAT 67 

VIII.  "TAKING  IT  OUT"  ON  A  SUIT  OF  CLOTHES    ...  78 

IX.  A  GRISLY  GAME  OF  BOWLS       95 

X.  THE  ART  OF  PUTTING  ON  A  FRONT 105 

XL        THE  FAILURE  OF  AN  UNCLE-TAMER 116 

XII.  STARTING  SOMETHING  IN  LEVANT 134 

XIII.  THE  MAN  WHO  TALKED  IN  THE  DARK      ....  142 

XIV.  THE  KICK-BACKS  IN  THIS  SAMARITAN  BUSINESS    .    .  158 

XV.  A  TIP  FROM  MR.  DAWLIN 169 

XVI.  GRABBING  A  HUSBAND  AND  FATHER 181 

XVII.  MONEY  HAS  LEGS 190 

XVIII.  THE  ECCENTRICITIES  OF  ROYAL  CITY 207 

XIX.  THE  JOB  OF  AN  ALTRUIST 221 

XX.  ACROSS  CALLAS 236 

XXL     THE  SKIRMISH-LINE 249 

XXII.  MONEY  ON  THE  GALLOP 261 

XXIII.  THE  CLEAN-UP 272 

XXIV.  How  SWEET  Is  THE  HOME-COMING,  EH?    .    .    .    .  283 

XXV.  GRATITUDE! 295 

XXVI.  CAPTAIN  HOLSTROM  ET  AL 305 

I 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

XXVII.  MR.  BEASON  HORNS  IN 313 

XXVIII.  SORTING  THE  CHECKER-BOARD  CREW 331 

XXIX.  THE  TELLTALE  RIBS 344 

XXX.  THE  LOCKS  OF  THE  SAND 356 

XXXI.  A  TASTE  OF  BLOOD 368 

XXXII.  PER  MISTER  MONKEY 383 

XXXIII.  THE  HEART  OF  THE  MILLIONS 395 

XXXIV.  AMONG  THIEVES 412 

XXXV.  SUBMARINE  PICKPOCKETS 420 

XXXVI.  THE  TERROR  FROM  THE  NORTH 435 

XXXVII.  THE  FRUIT  OF  THE  TREE  OF  KNOWLEDGE    .     .    .  445 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 


WHERE 
YOUR    TREASURE    IS 


BEING  THE  STRUGGLE  OP  AN  AMATEUR  AUTHOR  TO  GET  A 
FAIR   START 

0  PEAKING   of  money  —  and  it's  a  mighty  popular 
w3  topic — the  investment  of  the  first  twenty-five  cents 

1  ever  earned,  all  at  a  crack,  ought  to  have  directed  my 
feet,  my  thoughts,  and  my  future  along  the  straight  and 
narrow  way.    Ten  minutes  after  I  had  galloped  gleefully 
home  with  that  quarter-dollar  from  Judge  Kingsley's 
hay-field,  my  good  mother  led  me  down  to  Old  Maid 
Branscombe's  little  book-store  and  obliged  me  to  buy  a 
catechism. 

I  earned  that  money  by  nauling  a  drag-rake  for  a  whole 
day  around  behind  a  hay-cart,  barefoot  and  kicking 
against  the  vicious  stubbles  of  the  shaven  field.  I  hon- 
estly felt  that  I  did  not  deserve  the  extra  penance  of  the 
catechism.  However,  that  first  day's  work  gave  me  my 
earliest  respect  for  money — earned  money.  And  I  also 
remember  that  Judge  Kingsley,  when  he  paid  me,  sniffed 
and  said  I  hadn't  done  enough  to  earn  twenty-five  cents. 

I  hated  to  walk  up  to  him  and  ask  for  my  pay,  because 
Celene  Kingsley  was  within  hearing ;  she  had  come  down 

i 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

to  the  field  to  fetch  him  home  in  her  pony-chaise.  That's 
right!  You've  guessed  it!  I'll  waste  no  words.  It  was 
only  another  of  the  old  familiar  cases.  Barefooted,  folks 
poor,  keeping  my  face  toward  her,  as  a  sunflower  fronts 
the  sun  (though  the  sunflower  has  other  reasons  than 
hiding  patches),  I  was  in  the  shamed,  secret,  hopeless, 
heartaching  agonies  of  a  fifteen-year-old  passion.  Of 
course,  I  don't  mean  that  I  had  loved  her  for  all  that 
time — I'm  giving  my  age  and  hers. 

Yes,  I  hated  to  walk  up.  And  the  judge  gave  me  the 
quarter  only  because  he  did  not  have  any  smaller  change. 

And  really,  for  the  times,  it  was  considerable  of  a  coin 
for  a  single  juvenile  job. 

The  services  of  youngsters  in  those  days  in  Levant  were 
paid  for  on  a  narrower  scale — ten  cents  for  lawns  and  a 
nickel  for  shoveling  snow,  and  so  on.  And  tin-peddlers 
were  mighty  stingy  in  their  dickerings  for  old  rubbers  and 
junk.  To  get  rags  one  had  to  steal  'em — our  folks  made 
rugs  and  guarded  old  remnants  carefully. 

So  much  for  my  first  financial  adventure  of  real  mo- 
ment— for  the  biggest  coin  I  had  ever  clutched;  and  right 
now  I  lay  down  my  pen  for  a  moment  and  spread  out 
two  human  paws  which  have  juggled  three  million  dollars' 
worth  of  gold  ingots  as  carelessly  as  one  scruffles  jack- 
straws.  That  was  maverick  treasure.  But  there's  a  big 
difference  between  earned  money  and  maverick  money. 
If  you  don't  know  what  maverick  means  I'll  save  you  the 
trouble  of  looking  the  word  up  in  the  dictionary.  Once 
on  a  time,  in  Texas,  old  Sam  Maverick  wouldn't  brand  his 
cattle.  Therefore,  a  maverick  was  a  cow  or  steer  un- 
branded.  And  to-day  it  means  any  kind  of  property  at 
large  which  a  bold  man  or  a  dishonest  man  may  grab  if 
he  can  beat  other  thieves  to  it. 

I  had  an  early  taste  of  maverick  money,  and  the  taste 
was  so  sweet  that  I  never  have  lost  my  hankering  for 
more. 

In  the  fall  of  that  "year  of  the  catechism"  the  line  gale 

2 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

blew  down  the  chimney  which  had  stood  after  the  old 
Pratt  house  was  burned.  I  was  there  before  the  dust 
settled,  for  all  the  boys  knew  that  there  were  wrought- 
iron  clamps  high  up  in  the  bricks.  But  I  left  the  clamps 
to  the  next  comers  and  picked  up  a  dented  tin  box,  rusty 
and  dusty  and  soot-blackened;  I  shook  it;  it  rattled  and 
I  ran  away  into  the  woods.  When  I  had  knocked  the 
box  open  and  looked  in  and  spied  coins  I  had  the  heart- 
thrilling  conviction  that  money  worries  were  over  for  me 
in  this  life.  My  first  thought  was  that  I  would  marry 
Celene  Kingsley  and  settle  down  and  live  happy  ever 
after.  If  there  had  been  in  the  box  what  I  thought 
at  first  there  was,  I  could  wipe  my  pen  and  close  my 
story. 

I  dove  both  hands  into  the  box  and  brought  them  up 
brimming — coins  scattering  and  clattering  back  over  my 
trembling  fingers.  They  were  big  coins — and  I  had  read 
much  about  the  days  of  the  bold  pirates. 

"Pieces  of  eight!"  I  whispered. 

But  they  were  not.  When  I  had  winked  the  mist  out 
of  my  eyes  I  found  that  they  were  old-fashioned  coppers — 
bung-downs  they  used  to  be  called.  Mixed  in  with  them 
were  a  few  copper  tokens,  a  Pine  Tree  shilling,  a  sprinkling 
of  Speed  The  Plow  cents,  and  the  only  coin  of  any  account 
at  all  was  a  Mexican  dollar  with  a  hole  in  it. 

It  wasn't  in  my  nature  to  bury  that  treasure.  I  knew 
it  was  pretty  worthless  junk,  but  I  had  a  hankering  to 
carry  it  about  with  me,  to  feel  its  drag  in  my  pockets,  to 
reach  in  and  chink  it  when  no  one  could  hear.  I  walked 
around  weighted  with  it  as  afterward  I  have  been  weighted 
with  the  leaden  chunks  of  my  diver's  dress.  As  early  as 
that  in  my  life  I  found  that  money  was  a  burden  as  well 
as  a  vexation.  I  didn't  dare  to  frisk  and  frolic  with  the 
boys  at  school;  I  was  not  exploiting  my  new  wealth;  I 
had  grounds  for  caution  because  there  were  plenty  of 
Pratts  left  in  Levant.  At  home  I  moved  about  so  quietly 
that  my  folks  thought,  I  reckon,  that  I  was  entering  an 

3 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

early  decline.  My  mother  used  to  look  at  my  tongue 
quite  often  and  made  me  drink  hardhack  tea. 

But  there  is  one  impulse  in  the  male  animal  which  is 
not  easily  controlled  by  prudence;  it's  that  cursed  itch 
to  make  a  show  in  front  of  the  female  of  the  species — in 
front  of  the  special  one,  the  selected  one,  the  beloved 
one.  Some  sort  of  a  jimcrack- peddler  came  into  the 
school-yard  one  noon,  and  Celene  Kingsley,  daughter 
of  a  plutocrat,  tendered  a  big,  shiny  silver  dollar 
and  the  man  could  not  change  it  for  her.  I  walked 
up,  trembling  with  both  pride  and  panic,  and  said, 
trying  my  best  to  act  the  part  of  a  matter-of-fact  bank 
on  two  legs,  "Let  me  handle  it  for  you!"  It  was  the 
first  time  I  had  ever  spoken  to  her,  and  my  voice  was 
only  a  weak  squawk. 

When  she  turned  to  me  and  opened  her  big,  blue  eyes, 
I  was  nigh  to  running  away. 

The  boys  and  girls  came  crowding  around,  and  I  couldn't 
blame  them  for  showing  interest;  the  sight  of  a  Levant 
Sidney  with  money  on  him  was  a  new  one  in  town. 

I  had  separated  from  the  coppers  the  aristocrats  of  my 
hoard,  the  Pine  Tree  shilling  and  the  Mexican  dollar,  by 
wrapping  them  in  a  wisp  of  paper.  I  brought  them  out 
first. 

"I  don't  know  exactly  what  they  are  worth  in  real 
money,"  I  told  her.  "But  you  can  have  'em  at  half 
price." 

She  had  been  considerably  surprised  before,  but  now 
she  was  plain  dumfounded.  That  system  of  changing  a 
dollar  was  brand  new. 

Then  I  dredged  a  trousers  pocket  and  produced  a  hand- 
ful of  the  bung-down  coppers.  I  began  to  count  them 
down  on  a  corner  of  the  school-house  steps. 

"Somebody  get  a  wheelbarrow,"  advised  one  of  the 
boys.  "That's  the  only  way  she'll  ever  tug-a-lug  her 
change  home." 

"Really,  you  needn't  bother,"  she  said,  stammering  a 

4 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

little.    "No,  don't  trouble  yourself.    I  have  changed  my 
mind  about  buying  anything." 

They  all  laughed. 

"That  isn't  money,"  said  the  jimcrack  man.  "I'd 
never  take  that  stuff  for  my  goods." 

A  girl  ran  up  and  grabbed  into  the  coppers  I  had  been 
heaping  on  the  stone.  She  was  a  Pratt. 

"Ross  Sidney,  you  stole  that  money,"  she  squealed. 
"  It  was  in  my  granny's  notion-box.  We  couldn't  find  it 
after  she  died.  You  stole  it!" 

"I  didn't  steal  it— I  found  it,"  I  told  her.  But  all  the 
courage  had  gone  out  of  me. 

"You  ain't  the  first  thief  to  lie  about  your  stealings." 

"But  I  did  find  it — I  found  it  after  the  chimney  blew 
down." 

"You  knew  it  was  ours.  You  didn't  bring  it  to  us — 
that's  stealing." 

"It  might  have  been  put  there  before — " 

"It  was  my  granny's  money.  Don't  you  suppose  I 
know?  She  saved  old  coppers."  She  spread  down  her 
handkerchief  and  began  to  pile  the  coins  upon  it. 

There  did  not  seem  to  be  any  room  for  argument.  In 
my  shame  I  fell  to  wondering  how  I  had  ever  convinced 
myself  that  this  money  was  treasure-trove.  I  dug  down 
and  gave  her  the  rest  of  it.  Instead  of  proudly  showing 
myself  a  person  of  means  before  Celene  Kingsley  I  was 
barely  escaping  the  suspicion  of  being  a  thief. 

"If  it  belongs  to  the  Pratts  you're  welcome  to  it," 
I  said.  "I  don't  want  anything  which  belongs  to  some- 
body else." 

"You'd  better  remember  as  much  the  next  time  you 
find  money,"  snapped  the  Pratt  girl.  "Your  conscience 
will  be  easier  when  you  die." 

They  say  that  dying  men  live  over  their  lives  in  a 
flash — that's  so!  When  I  was  dying  in  black  darkness, 
five  fathoms  deep  under  the  waters  of  the  Pacific,  with  a 
bar  of  gold  in  either  hand,  I  remembered  what  that  Pratt. 

5 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

girl  said  to  me  that  day  in  the  glory  of  the  autumn  sun- 
shine, my  face  as  red  as  a  frost-touched  leaf;  it  was  the 
day  of  my  bitterest  humiliation;  I  slunk  off  without 
daring  to  look  at  Celene  Kingsley. 

I  think  I  know  what  my  main  mistake  was  in  my  first 
attempts  at  writing  this  tale;  I  tried  to  tell  the  story  as 
if  it  had  happened  to  somebody  else  and  the  thing  was 
•stiffer  than  a  mud-caked  tug-line  and  squealed  like  a 
nisty  windlass.  Of  course,  I  hate  to  be  saying  "I"  here, 
there,  and  everywhere — but  there'll  come  a  place  in  my 
tale — you'll  think  of  it  if  ever  you  get  as  far  as  that — 
where  there'd  be  nothing  to  the  story  unless  you  could 
see  with  my  eyes  and  feel  with  my  hands.  So,  bear  with 
me  and  I'll  reel  off  the  yarn  as  best  I  know  how,  making 
no  apologies  after  this  confession. 

Oh,  about  that  first  maverick  money  I  ran  afoul  of! 

I  never  saw  that  money  again,  of  course. 

But  I  did  happen  to  meet  Ben  Pratt  right  in  front  of 
Judge  Kingsley's  house.  I'll  not  say  how  big  Ben  Pratt 
was,  because  you'll  think  this  is  only  a  bragging  story. 
He  called  me  a  thief  and  I  decided  it  was  about  time  to 
show  Levant  that  the  name  was  not  a  popular  one  with 
me. 

I  licked  him. 

Judge  Kingsley  rushed  out  with  a  horsewhip  and  lashed 
us  apart  just  as  I  was  finishing  Ben  up. 

"Young  Sidney,  you're  a  cheeky,  tough,  brazen  char- 
acter," said  the  judge.  I  did  not  answer  him. 

It  is  my  nature  to  take  a  big  lot  from  all  women,  con- 
siderable from  some  men,  and  devilish  little  from  most 
men.  I  had  nothing  at  all  to  say  to  Celene  Kingsley's 
father,  even  though  I  was  rubbing  half  a  dozen  swelling 
welts  where  his  whip  had  connected  with  the  back  of 
my  neck. 

"You  come  of  a  tough  family,"  stated  the  judge. 

Right  then  my  uncle  Deck  arrived  at  the  party;  he  had 
been  watching  the  thing  from  the  tavern  porch. 

6 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"What's  that  you  say  about  our  family?"  he  asked  the 
judge. 

"I  don't  care  to  stand  here  and  quarrel  with  you, 
Decker  Sidney." 

"When  you  horsewhip  my  dead  brother's  boy  in  the 
main  street  you'll  come  pretty  nigh  to  having  a  quarrel 
with  me,  seeing  that  his  own  father  can't  protect  him." 

"I  merely  came  out  here  and  stopped  a  fight  which  was 
disgracing  our  village." 

"It's  a  nice  thing  for  one  of  the  'forty  thieves'  to 
talk  about  disgracing  a  village,"  said  my  uncle. 

As  young  as  I  was  I  knew  what  was  meant  when  folks 
called  Judge  Kinglsey  one  of  the  forty  thieves.  He 
belonged  to  the  syndicate  that  had  grabbed  the  State's 
principal  railroad  away  from  the  original  shareholders; 
there  was  political  shenanigan  and  a  good  deal  of  fore- 
closure trickery.  I  never  understood  the  details,  but  the 
fact  remained  that  the  syndicate  got  the  railroad. 

"A  cheap  slur  from  a  cheap  man,"  said  the  judge, 
walking  away. 

I  can't  say  that  I  resented  that  remark  very  deeply, 
though  I  suppose  family  loyalty  should  have  prompted 
me  to  do  so.  I  never  in  my  life  came  close  to  my  uncle 
Deck  when  he  did  not  have  the  smell  of  liquor  on  his 
breath.  On  each  side  of  his  nose  there  was  a  patch  of 
perfectly  lurid  crimson.  He  was  a  horse-trader  and  he 
made  considerable  money. 

"That  slur  of  yours  is  a  high-priced  one,"  my  uncle 
shouted.  "I  have  my  eye  on  you,  you  old  hypocrite. 
There'll  come  a  day  when  that  slur  will  cost  you  more 
than  you  can  afford  to  pay.  That's  how  high-priced  it 
is,  Judge  Kingsley." 

I  didn't  know  what  my  uncle  meant  then. 

It  was  a  wicked  time  for  me  when  I  did  find  out,  a  long 
while  afterward. 

2 


II 

ENDING   WITH   A   MEETING   ON   PURGATORY   HILL 

MY  mother  was  a  good  woman — a  thrifty,  kindly, 
helpful  woman,  a  good  neighbor,  in  spite  of  her 
poverty. 

My  short  temper,  my  cheeky  disposition,  my  generally 
ready  impulse  to  grab  in  on  short  notice,  all  belong  to 
the  Sidney  side,  I  guess.  All  we  know  of  the  family  has 
come  down  by  word  of  mouth,  and  I  suspect  that  the  first 
rovers  who  came  over  in  the  old  days  when  New  England 
was  really  new  were  pretty  tough  characters  who  had 
plenty  of  original  nerve  to  start  with  and  then  developed 
more  as  occasion  required.  Well,  some  of  that  sort  had 
to  come  on  ahead  and  smooth  things  with  the  ax  and 
crowbar — yes,  and  with  the  musket,  so  that  the  country 
could  get  a  good  running  start. 

My  mother  was  a  good  neighbor,  I  repeat.  Up  in  the 
attic,  hanging  in  dried  bunches  from  the  beams,  were 
spearmint,  thoroughwort,  hardback,  mullein,  pennyroyal, 
and  other  pasture  herbs  which  she  sent  me  forth  to  gather. 
Her  thoroughwort  syrup  was  guaranteed  to  cure  any  case 
of  whooping-cough — and  she  gave  freely  to  all  who  came 
to  her. 

My  father  was  a  helpful  sort  of  a  man  in  his  own  way. 
He  used  to  volunteer  as  boss  of  all  the  barn-raising  bees 
in  our  section — but  his  enemies,  made  up  of  a  considerable 
army  of  the  men  whom  he  had  licked  in  his  life,  said, 
behind  his  back,  that  the  only  reason  he  had  for  helping 
at  a  barn-raising  was  to  show  off  by  running  the  ridge- 
pole first  of  all  the  crew,  and  then  to  start  the  regular 

8 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

free  fight.    He  fell  off  a  ridge-pole  one  day  and  my  mother 
was  widowed. 

I  take  it  that  her  chief  ambition  in  life  was  to  tame  the 
Sidney  disposition  in  me — that  earnest  desire  explaining 
my  involuntary  investment  in  the  catechism.  My 
mother's  axioms  and  teachings  would  have  made  excellent 
addenda  and  foot-notes  for  any  catechism.  Always  did 
she  counsel  me  to  count  ten  before  speaking  angry  word 
or  performing  angry  act;  I  don't  remember  that  I  ever 
did  as  she  told  me,  though  the  Lord  Himself  knows  how 
much  I  have  suffered  in  my  life  on  account  of  that  lack 
of  self-restraint.  Two  days  after  I  bought  the  catechism 
my  good  mother  thought  it  was  having  its  effect  on  my 
nature.  She  saw  a  boy  heave  a  rock  at  me  in  our  door- 
yard  and  I  stood  perfectly  motionless  and  speechless. 

"That's  right,  my  own  son!  Count  your  ten!"  she 
called  to  me. 

But  just  at  that  moment  a  bumblebee  was  crawling 
around  over  my  bare  foot  and  I  was  in  no  mind  to  disturb 
him.  Therefore,  my  enemy  was  enabled  to  collect  a  full 
supply  of  rock  ammunition  and  to  defy  and  rout  me 
when  at  last  I  was  free  from  the  restraint  of  the  bumble- 
bee. It  would  have  been  the  same  if  I  had  waited  to 
count  ten.  Somehow,  as  the  world  is  constituted,  I  have 
never  taken  much  stock  in  this  watchful-waiting  game 
while  your  enemy  is  hustling  to  pile  up  his  ammunition 
and  you  know  he  is  doing  so.  I  may  be  wrong.  Maybe 
this  story  of  mine  will  show  that  I'm  wrong.  But  I  hear 
you  say,  let's  get  on  to  the  story ! 

I  mean  to  do  so  at  once;  but  if  I  have  paused  to  pull 
the  curtain  aside  from  my  family  and  my  character  a  bit 
you  may  be  able  to  understand  some  parts  of  the  story 
a  mite  better,  because,  in  spite  of  that  catechism,  in 
spite  of  mother-influence,  and  perhaps  mother-goodness 
deep  down  in  me,  I  have  butted  into  adventures  which 
you  will  not  find  set  down  in  the  volumes  of  any  well- 
conducted  Sunday-school  library. 

9 


WHERE   YOUR  TREASURE    IS 

I  didn't  have  my  mother  long,  after  my  fifteenth  birth- 
day. 

I  was  her  sole  heir;  five  minutes  before  she  closed  her 
eyes  she  gave  me  all  her  little  fortune — to  wit,  the  sweet- 
est smile  good  mother  ever  left  to  bless  memory  of  her,  a 
pat  on  my  hand,  a  few  whispered  words  in  my  ear. 

And  then  Uncle  Deck  took  me  in  hand  to  make  a  man 
of  me,  so  he  said. 

He  wasn't  all  bad — don't  understand  me  as  saying 
that.  He  would  pass  a  sleepless  night  if  he  failed  to  cheat 
a  man  in  a  horse  trade,  but  he  would  sell  his  shirt  before 
he  would  allow  any  old  folks  in  our  town  to  go  onto  the 
poor-farm.  He  would  sneak  around  with  wood  and  gro- 
ceries after  dark,  that  big,  red  face  of  his  like  a  harvest 
moon,  and  when  they  would  start  to  thank  him  he  would 
curse  the  miserable  old  creatures  so  horribly  that  my  blood 
used  to  run  cold.  He  prided  himself  on  language  which, 
so  he  said,  "would  break  up  a  Sunday-school  picnic  if  a 
little  bird  sat  overhead  and  twittered  it  out  of  a  tree." 
He  saved  his  choicest  profanity  for  his  comments  on 
Judge  Zebulon  Kingsley.  His  hatred  went  far  back.  I 
don't  know  what  started  it.  Perhaps  it  began  in  the 
natural  antipathy  such  a  man  as  Uncle  Deck  would 
entertain  for  a  cold,  proud,  punctilious,  professedly  relig- 
ious man  like  the  judge.  Uncle  Deck  would  have  it  that 
the  judge  was  a  hypocrite,  a  thief  at  heart,  and  my 
uncle's  constant  boast  was  that  some  day  he  would  show 
the  judge  up;  but  all  that  vaporing  seemed  to  be  silly 
spite,  without  foundation.  Judge  Kingsley  was  our  rich 
man;  he  had  been  judge  of  probate,  and  after  retiring 
from  that  office  he  was  trusted  with  funds  as  a  sort  of 
private  banker;  folks  whose  estates  he  had  handled  as 
judge  just  naturally  insisted  on  his  keeping  control ;  and 
he  had  been  town  treasurer  of  Levant  for  years. 

I  hated  to  hear  my  uncle  rave  on  about  such  a  man; 
it  was  as  irritating  as  the  barking  of  a  cur. 

I  have  said  that  my  uncle  was  a  horse-trader.  Rather, 

10 


he  was  a  general  country  dickerer,  if  you  know  the  kind. 
He  dealt  in  everything  from  a  sheet  of  fly-paper  to  a  clap 
of  thunder.  He  had  car-loads  of  horses  sent  to  him  from 
the  West  and  peddled  those  to  farmers,  taking  cash  or 
bills  of  sale  or  produce  or  second-hand  furniture  or  any- 
thing else  which  he  could  turn  in  a  trade.  He  set  me  to 
peddling  and  collecting,  and  it  was  a  mean  job.  At  first 
I  used  to  believe  everything  which  debtors  or  sellers  would 
tell  me,  and  the  result  was  that  Uncle  Deck  bawled  me 
out  most  dreadfully;  and  thus  being  abused  by  both 
parties,  I  got  so  at  last  that  I  believed  nobody. 

Therefore  I  was  in  a  fair  way  to  be  made  just  the  sort 
of  man  Uncle  Deck  desired  me  to  be. 

And  continually,  after  I  was  sufficiently  hardened,  he 
impressed  on  me  that  I  mustn't  be  bothering  him  all  the 
time,  asking  this  and  that  about  running  the  business. 
I  must  act  for  myself  and  then  report  to  him  when  he 
called  for  an  accounting.  You  shall  see  how  his  trying 
to  make  a  man  of  me  in  this  fashion  turned  me  into  ways 
which  neither  he  nor  I  could  have  forecast.  Don't  tell 
me  that  the  activities  of  this  life  are  very  much  a  matter 
of  individual  election,  after  all.  To  be  sure,  a  man  might 
elect  to  live  a  hermit  and  might  get  away  with  the  job  in 
good  shape;  but  if  a  person  throws  himself  into  the  ruck 
of  the  living,  into  the  running  of  humanity,  he'll  be  apt 
to  find  himself  leaping  from  crag  to  crag  because  he  has 
been  shooed  or  jarred. 

I  ran  up  against  one  Juvenal  Bird,  newly  come  to  town 
from  the  rural  fastnesses  of  Vienna  plantation — planta- 
tion meaning  an  unorganized  township.  I  had  never 
heard  of  Mr.  Bird,  and  when  he  came  within  range  of 
my  vision  I  rather  wondered  because  I  had  not ;  he  seemed 
to  be  a  person  of  some  importance.  To  be  sure,  his  frock 
suit  was  rusty  and  his  plug-hat  was  fuzzy,  but  the  garb 
was  distinctive. 

Mr.  Bird  was  in  search  of  furniture  and  I  showed  him 
our  second-hand  stock ;  he  ordered  liberally  and  largely — 

ii 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

especially  largely.  He  took  the  biggest  stove,  the  largest 
bedsteads,  the  most  expansive  tables,  and  bureaus  of 
breadth.  That  plug-hat  impressed  me.  When  he  told 
me  to  send  the  goods  out  to  his  house  on  the  Tumble- 
dick  Road,  and  to  call  for  the  pay  at  my  convenience,  I 
did  not  presume  to  ask  for  an  advance  instalment,  after 
our  usual  custom. 

I  promptly  found  out  that  this  was  one  affair  of  busi- 
ness with  which  I  should  have  bothered  my  busy  uncle, 
who  knew  all  the  cheats  of  the  section. 

Mr.  Bird  was  one  of  the  most  notable  cheats.  His 
raiment  was  garb  discarded  by  an  up-country  parson, 
who  pitied  Mr.  Bird  after  the  latter  had  been  evicted  from 
timber-lands  as  a  dangerous  squatter,  careless  of  fire. 
Mr.  Bird  installed  the  furniture  in  a  shack  which  he  had 
hired,  then  acted  as  his  own  carpenter  and  narrowed  all 
the  doors  and  the  windows.  I  went  out  after  the  money 
and  learned  that  the  law  provides  for  the  replevin  of 
furniture,  but  does  not  allow  a  house  to  be  mutilated  in 
order  to  remove  the  furniture.  Mr.  Bird  grinned  at  me 
through  a  cracked  window  and  thumbed  his  nose. 

When  I  reported  to  my  uncle  he  told  me  to  go  and  get 
it.  I  refrain  from  quoting  the  words  in  which  he  voiced 
that  command. 

"But  the  law  says — "  I  ventured. 

Again  I  suppress  details.  My  uncle  Deck's  opinion  of 
the  law  would  lack  authority. 

However,  being  a  Sidney,  and  resenting  Mr.  Bird's 
betrayal  of  my  innocence,  and  needing  a  home  and  a  job, 
I  accepted  my  uncle's  opinion  of  the  law  for  the  time 
being.  I  collected  a  gang  of  my  boy  intimates.  We  went 
in  the  night  and  ripped  the  stuffing  out  of  Mr.  Bird's  nest. 

There's  a  queer  kind  of  senseless  and  secret  gratifica- 
tion in  doing  a  mob  job.  The  human  animal  has  a  lot  of 
primeval  instincts  which  need  tickling  once  in  a  while.  I 
reckon  we  boys  gratified  the  wolf  streak  on  that  occasion, 
running  in  a  pack  in  the  night-time. 

12 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

We  enjoyed  it  so  much  that  we  held  a  meeting  a  night 
or  so  later  and  organized  ourselves  as  the  "Skokums." 
I  can't  remember  how  we  happened  to  light  on  that  name. 
I  was  chosen  as  leader. 

That  first  sortie  was  a  great  success — Mr.  Bird  was 
not  in  a  position  to  prosecute.  We  had  had  a  won- 
derful night,  had  defied  the  law,  and  had  escaped  punish- 
ment. 

Judge  Kingsley  was  the  only  man  in  town  who  pro- 
claimed indignation  loudly  and  openly.  He  expressed 
himself  before  a  crowd  in  the  post-office  and  declared  that 
hoodlums  had  disgraced  the  town  of  Levant.  He  looked 
straight  at  me  and  said  he  would  give  a  reward  of  ten 
dollars  for  evidence  on  which  the  ringleader  could  be 
convicted. 

"And  I  would  give  one  thousand  dollars  to  pay  for  law 
to  set  him  free,"  said  my  uncle. 

"Some  day  the  plug-uglies  will  be  rooted  out  of  this 
place — and  good  riddance  to  'em,"  snarled  the  judge. 

"The  snout  that  goes  rooting  into  that  business  will 
get  twisted  off'n  the  face  of  the  rooter,"  retorted  my 
uncle.  He  was  never  very  choice  in  his  language.  How 
those  crimson  patches  on  his  face  did  glow  and  how  his 
eyes  sparkled! 

So,  it  will  be  seen,  I  was  not  getting  on  at  all  with  my 
love-affair.  . 

It  is  pretty  presumptuous  in  me  to  refer  to  it  as  a  love- 
affair.  That  would  intimate — calling  it  that — a  bit  of 
reciprocation  on  the  part  of  Celene  Kingsley.  But  she 
never  showed  any  visible  interest  in  me,  even  to  looking 
my  way  when  she  met  me  on  the  street.  I  would  have 
liked  to  attract  her  attention,  for  at  last  I  wore  shoes  and 
had  clothes  without  patches  on  them. 

The  Skokums  flourished  under  cover  of  the  night. 

There  was  Oramandel  Bangs.  He  was  rather  simple, 
and  always  carried  his  mouth  open,  and  nobody  in  Levant 
ever  forgot  that  once  a  hornet  flew  in  and  stung  his 

13 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

tongue  and  it  swelled  and  stuck  out  of  his  mouth  for 
days  like  the  end  of  a  bologna  sausage. 

Oramandel  had  a  sneaking  suspicion  that  witchcraft 
had  never  been  wholly  stamped  out  by  his  forefathers  in 
New  England. 

We  decided  to  convince  him  that  he  was  right — there's 
nothing  like  clinching  a  man's  faith  in  the  good  judgment 
of  his  ancestors. 

We  hoisted  one  of  his  calves  into  an  apple-tree.  He 
"unwitched"  the  animal  by  cutting  off  its  ears  and  tail 
before  taking  it  down  from  the  tree. 

We  tied  cords  to  his  ox-chaias  and  hid  ourselves  and 
slashed  the  chains  about  the  dooryard;  he  ran  to  the 
neighbors  and  reported  that  the  witches  had  changed 
his  chains  into  big  snakes.  We  did  a  lot  more  things,  and 
then  imagination  began  to  do  the  rest  for  him.  He  said 
the  witches  wouldn't  allow  him  to  do  his  farm-work,  even 
though  he  had  sumac-wood  splinters  in  all  his  tools  and 
stuck  shears  around  his  churn  to  make  the  butter  come. 
Before  we  realized  what  mischief  a  lively  imagination  can 
do  to  a  man,  they  were  obliged  to  carry  the  old  chap  away 
to  the  asylum  for  the  insane. 

And  again  Judge  Kingsley  held  forth  in  the  post-office. 
I  guess  he  did  a  lot  of  talking  at  home,  too. 

At  any  rate,  Celene  Kingsley  was  mighty  well  posted, 
so  I  discovered. 

I  met  her  on  Purgatory  Hill  one  day — and  never  did 
that  name  seem  to  apply  so  well !  I  had  been  out  on  my 
uncle's  business,  and  among  other  plunder  in  the  beach- 
wagon  were  two  shotes  in  a  crate,  and  they  certainly  were 
taking  on  about  leaving  home  and  mother. 

She  was  alone  in  her  pony-chaise  and  the  shaggy  little 
brute  she  drove  was  frightened — and  I  didn't  blame  him. 
I  pulled  as  far  into  the  gutter  as  I  could  and  waited;  I 
poked  the  butt  of  my  whip  into  the  crate  and  prodded 
those  shotes,  but  that  only  made  them  screech  the  louder. 

So  she  came  leading  her  pony  past  me.  I  didn't  expect 

14 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

that  she  would  stop  and  speak  to  me,  but  she  did.  I 
nearly  fell  off  my  seat.  And  she  called  me  "  Mr.  Sidney." 
It  was  the  first  time  anybody  had  ever  given  me  a  handle 
to  my  name.  I  had  pulled  my  hat  off  when  I  saw  her 
coming;  when  she  spoke  to  me  I  put  it  back  on  again  and 
then  took  it  off  so  that  I  could  show  her  that  I  knew  a 
little  something  about  manners.  However,  I  wasn't  at 
all  sure  just  what  I  was  doing;  my  head  was  in  a  whirl, 
and  I  was  damning  those  pigs  in  my  heart. 

"I  thank  you,  Mr.  Sidney,"  she  said.  "Pedro  acts  like 
a  fool  sometimes." 

Two  hours  afterward,  I  guess  it  was,  I  thought  of  just 
the  right  reply  to  that  remark;  as  it  was,  I  didn't  say  any- 
thing to  her.  I  couldn't. 

She  started  on  and  then  stopped  and  looked  at  me. 

Perhaps  she  guessed  something — I  don't  know.  Girls 
can  act  as  if  they  never  notice  anything  and  still  they  have 
an  eye  out  all  the  time;  and  what  they  don't  see  they 
know  by  instinct.  At  any  rate,  there  was  a  lot  of  kindness 
in  her  face,  and  perhaps  there  was  pity  in  her  thoughts. 

"I'm  afraid  I  am  very  bold,  Mr.  Sidney.  I  hope  you'll 
forgive  me  for  speaking  to  you." 

She  hesitated.  Right  there  was  another  beautiful 
chance  for  me  to  say  the  good  thing  which  came  to  me 
that  night  after  I  was  in  bed.  All  I  could  do  at  the  time 
was  duck  my  head. 

"I'd  hate  to  have  any  of  the  boys  who  went  to  school 
with  me  get  into  trouble  on  account  of  their  thoughtless- 
ness. I'm  sure  it's  only  thoughtlessness  and  skylarking. 
But  older  folks,  you  know,  don't  understand  and  cannot 
sympathize  with  young  folks.  Now  you  won't  tell  any- 
body that  I  told  you  something,  will  you?" 

Just  think  of  it !  A  secret  between  Celene  Kingsley  and 
myself! 

I  gulped  and  shook  my  head. 

"Won't  you  tell  the  boys — you'll  know  just  how  to 
pass  the  word — that  folks  are  talking  of  having  a  detective 

15 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

to  watch  the  village  nights?"  She  probably  saw  that  I 
was  incapable  of  uttering  a  sound  and  she  went  on, 
hurrying  her  words.  "Mr.  Sidney,  of  course  you  under- 
stand that  I  am  not  picking  you  out  as  the  ringleader. 
That's  not  why  I  am  asking  you  to  pass  the  word.  But 
I  know  you  are  popular  among  the  boys.  They  all  speak 
so  well  of  you!  And  I  was  so  sorry  when  I  heard  that 
your  dear  mother  had  passed  on.  I  wanted  to  write  a  bit 
of  a  note,  but  they  are  very  strict  at  the  boarding-school — 
we  are  not  allowed  to  write  to  young  gentlemen." 

Think  of  two  shotes,  squalling  their  heads  off,  furnish- 
ing accompaniment  to  that!  But  I'll  say  this  of  the 
shotes,  they  had  spirit  enough  to  use  their  voices — I  was 
dumb. 

"It  would  be  terrible  to  have  anybody  arrested  here  in 
Levant  for  boyish  pranks — it's  all  thoughtlessness,  I'm  sure. 
You  and  I  ought  to  be  able  to  straighten  everything  out." 

I  stood  up. 

"Enough  said!"  I  shouted. 

She  flinched.  Then  I  realized  just  how  I  must  have 
sounded,  for  she  said,  "I  didn't  mean  to  make  you  angry !" 

I  couldn't  blame  her  for  mistaking  my  looks;  I  was  so 
mad  at  myself  that  I  wanted  to  lash  my  back  with  my 
own  whip. 

"No,  no,  no!  It  isn't  the  way  you  seem  to  think  it  is! 
I  want  to  say  that  after  this — after  what  you  have  said 
to  me — if  there's  any  more  cutting-up  in  this  village  I'll 
strip  the  pelt  off  the  chap  who  does  the  job."  I  beat  my 
hand  on  my  breast.  "It's  the  proudest  day  of  my  life 
when  I  can  take  orders  from  you." 

"But  I  haven't  given  orders,  Mr.  Sidney." 

"You  have.  They're  orders  to  me.  The  littlest  thing 
you  can  wish  for  is  orders  to  me.  If  you  said  for  me  to 
cut  my  hand  off  I'd  do  it.  Oh,  you  don't  know !  I  have — 
I  don't  know  how  to  say  it — but  for  years — oh,  I'm 
crazy — "  And  I  was.  It  was  lunacy  provoked  by  the 
passion  of  love  trying  to  outvoice  those  devilish  shotes. 

16 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

By  the  funny  look  she  gave  me  she  was  taking  me  at 
my  word.  She  hurried  to  step  into  her  little  chaise. 

"All  I  mean  is  this,"  I  quavered.  "I'll  make  'em  quit. 
You  look  to  me.  I'll  be  responsible.  Don't  you  worry." 

"I'm  sure  everything  will  be  all  right  after  this,"  she 
told  me.  "I'll  depend  on  you,  and  I  thank  you." 

She  went  on  her  way,  and  the  burden  I  had  assumed 
seemed  lighter  than  feathers  and  more  precious  than 
golden  ingots. 

She  had  given  me  her  confidence — she  had  asked  me 
for  a  service! 

She  had  thought  of  me  and  my  trouble  when  she  was 
away  at  school! 

A  few  minutes  before  I  had  not  dreamed  that  she  was 
conscious  that  such  a  person  as  Ross  Sidney  walked  the 
earth. 

Now,  at  all  events,  my  poor  self  was  in  a  little  corner  of 
her  thoughts.  She  was  looking  to  me  for  help  in  some- 
thing which  she  had  made  her  own  concern. 

I  rode  down  Purgatory  Hill,  hugging  my  joy  and 
cursing  those  shotes. 


Ill 

ON  ACCOUNT   OF   A   GIRL 

I  TRUST  you  have  noted,  by  this  time,  that  my  yarn 
is  not  a  mere  chronicle  of  disconnected  incidents. 
Linked  circumstances  seemed  to  be  tying  me  up.  One 
happening  had  pushed  me  on  to  another  and  I  had  al- 
lowed myself  to  be  pushed.  It  might  be  urged,  of  course, 
that  I  had  no  business  in  inciting  a  mob  to  play  hob  with 
Mr.  Bird — but  I  had  my  own  interests  to  consider,  and  I 
had  been  listening  to  my  uncle's  teachings  on  the  subject 
of  looking  out  for  number  one. 

"You  know  what  happened  to  your  father  when  he 
went  to  running  his  legs  off  on  somebody  else's  business," 
he  told  me.  "If  it  hadn't  been  for  me  helping  him  in  his 
other  scrapes,  your  mother  would  have  been  playing 
hungryman's  ratty-too  on  the  bottom  of  the  flour-barrel 
oftener  than  she  did.  I  hope  you've  got  an  ambition  to 
be  somebody  and  to  have  something." 

I  did  have,  but  you  may  be  sure  I  did  not  tell  my  uncle 
that  my  principal  hankering  to  get  money  was  so  that  I 
might  lay  it  at  the  feet  of  Zebulon  Kingsley's  daughter. 

Now,  by  the  expressed  wish  of  that  daughter,  I  started 
out  to  control  happenings  and  to  set  myself  in  new  ways. 

I  passed  the  word  to  the  Skokums,  keeping  my  promise 
to  Celene. 

I  was  obliged  to  be  indefinite,  for  I  was  guarding  that 
little  secret  between  her  and  myself  as  my  most  precious 
treasure. 

As  I  remember  it,  I  put  it  to  the  gang  this  way:  "We 
ought  to  behave  ourselves  and  protect  the  good  name  of 

18 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

the  town."    They  laughed  at  me  and  asked  me  if  I  had 
joined  Judge  Kingsley's  Sunday-school  class. 

I  knew  they  didn't  suspect  the  truth,  nevertheless  that 
dig  nearly  put  me  out  of  countenance  on  account  of  the 
secret  I  was  cherishing.  I  blushed  and  stammered  and  I 
lost  my  grip  then  and  there  as  a  leader — and  it  was  the 
same  old  story — it  was  on  account  of  a  girl.  A  girl  does 
rattle  the  gear  of  man-business ! 

One  of  the  fellows  remarked  that  I  was  getting  almighty 
pious  after  I  had  used  them  to  clean  up  my  own  dirty 
job.  He  said  the  most  of  them  had  matters  of  their  own 
which  needed  attention,  and  wanted  to  know  if  I  proposed 
to  sneak  out  on  them  after  all  the  help  they  had  given  me. 

I  told  them  that  I  had  thought  the  thing  over  carefully 
and  had  decided  that  what  we  had  done  to  Mr.  Bird  was 
not  right  or  lawful  and  we'd  better  make  no  more  mistakes. 

"Then  perhaps  you  want  us  to  correct  that  mistake 
and  make  up  a  bee  and  carry  the  furniture  back  to  the 
old  cuss,"  suggested  one  of  the  Sortwell  boys. 

When  I  failed  to  welcome  that  notion  they  turned  on 
me  in  good  earnest,  and  in  my  own  heart  I  had  to  admit, 
looking  on  the  surface  of  the  thing,  that  they  had  good 
reason  for  thinking  that  I  was  both  selfish  and  ungrateful. 

In  the  Sixth  Reader,  at  school,  I  had  found  the  story  of 
Frankenstein's  monster.  I  saw  that  in  organizing  the 
Skokums  I  had  built  a  lively  little  monster  of  my  own. 

"I  have  a  special  and  a  private  reason  for  asking  you 
to  quit  and  be  good,  boys,"  I  told  them. 

"A  member  who  keeps  his  private  and  special  reasons 
to  himself  and  doesn't  trust  the  rest  of  us  isn't  much  of  a 
help  in  time  of  trouble,"  said  Ben  Pratt.  "I  have  never 
taken  a  whole  lot  of  stock  in  you,  Ross  Sidney,  and  now 
I  take  less  than  ever  before." 

From  remarks  which  were  dropped  I  gathered  that 
the  rest  of  them  held  similar  sentiments. 

"They're  going  to  have  a  detective  in  here,"  I  told 
them. 

19 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"Who  said  so?" 

But  that  was  Celene  Kingsley's  secret. 

I  had  hoped  that  the  threat  might  scare  them.  It  had 
just  the  opposite  effect;  the  boys  of  Levant  had  never 
seen  a  detective,  but  they  had  read  every  five-cent  thriller 
on  the  subject.  To  be  the  object  of  a  real  detective's 
attention  seemed  like  glorious  adventure — and  they  were 
sure  that  they  were,  when  on  their  own  prowling-grounds, 
match  for  any  sleuth  who  ever  dodged  behind  trees. 

But  I  had  stood  up  before  her  and  had  beaten  fist 
upon  my  breast  and  had  assured  her  that  she  could  trust 
all  to  me.  What  sort  of  a  knight  was  I  to  wear  lady's 
favor  and  then  fail  to  do  and  dare  in  her  behalf? 

"I  had  hoped  that  you  knew  me  better  and  that  I 
stood  higher  with  you  fellows,"  I  said.  "I'll  admit  that 
you  did  a  big  job  for  me,  and  I  am  grateful.  But  you  all 
had  your  fun  out  of  it,  for  you  have  said  so,  over  and  over. 
You'll  have  to  admit  something,  yourselves;  you'll  have 
to  own  up  that  we  are  ashamed  of  what  we  did  to  poor 
old  Bangs.  If  you  keep  on  you'll  do  other  things  to  be 
ashamed  of.  I'm  advising  you  to  stop." 

"We  don't  want  your  advice,"  said  Ben. 

"Then  you'll  get  something  from  me  which  you'll  like 
a  blamed  sight  less  than  advice." 

Plainly  they  were  hungry  for  information. 

"What  '11  that  be?"  asked  one  of  the  SortweU  boys. 

"Try  on  any  more  of  your  doodle-busting  in  this  town 
and  you'll  find  out,"  I  said.  Then  I  left  them  and  went 
home. 

Some  bright  chap  has  made  a  simile  about  having  as 
much  privacy  as  a  goldfish.  At  any  rate,  by  leading  an 
open  life,  one  may  be  in  a  position  to  prove  an  alibi. 

I  took  to  spending  my  evenings  in  the  bar-room  of  the 
Levant  Tavern. 

That  was  by  no  means  such  a  roystering  sort  of  a  life 
as  it  sounds  to  be.  They  used  to  sell  liquor  in  the  tavern 
in  the  old  stage-coaching  days,  when  the  place  was  a  post 

20 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

station;  the  little  catty-cornered  bar  is  there  in  the  big 
room,  its  worn  wood  shiny  from  the  dragging  of  rough 
fists  and  from  many  scrubbings;  behind  is  the  cupboard, 
with  wavy  glass  set  in  diamond-shaped  panes.  But  the 
cupboard  was  bare  in  my  boyhood  days  and  the  shelves 
were  dusty.  Dodovah  Vose,  the  landlord,  was  a  tee- 
totaler and  believed  in  impressing  that  principle  on 
others. 

"I  have  seen  what  liquor  will  do  and  undo,"  he  said 
when  he  used  to  get  on  to  the  subject.  ' '  In  my  young  days, 
when  the  West  Injy  trade  flourished  and  rum  held  its 
place  without  blushing,  I  have  set  in  meeting  and  seen  the 
parson  soop  a  sip  of  rum-and-water  between  the  firstly 
and  secondly,  and  so  on.  It  may  have  improved  him  and 
the  sermon — I'm  not  arguing.  But  do  you  think  that 
liquor  would  ever  have  improved  my  brother  Jodrey 
and  made  him  the  best  deep-sea  diver  on  the  Atlantic 
coast,  as  he  is  to-day?  No,  gents!  Where  a  man  needs 
the  strength  of  his  arms,  the  full  power  of  his  ten  fingers, 
the  quickness  of  his  brain,  and  the  help  of  his  lungs  and  a 
good  heart — then  he'd  better  let  liquor  alone.  That's 
what  my  brother  says  and  he  has  been  deeper  under- 
water than  any  other  man — and  you  can  look  around  you 
and  see  some  of  the  queer  and  wonderful  things  he  has 
brought  up  for  the  peerusal  of  mankind." 

The  old  foreroom  was  really  a  storehouse  of  curious 
pickings  and  gleanings  which  had  been  sent  up-country, 
from  time  to  time,  by  the  diver  brother.  It  had  been  one 
of  my  earliest  haunts,  for  I  had  always  hit  it  off  nicely 
with  Dodovah  Vose.  I  did  not  lark  about  the  room  or 
molest  the  curios,  as  other  boys  in  the  village  sometimes 
did. 

On  the  contrary,  I  always  surveyed  them  with  respect 
and  interest ;  the  awe  I  felt  when  I  first  laid  eyes  on  them 
never  left  me,  entirely.  I  have  not  been  able  to  determine, 
exactly,  whether  my  boyhood  study  of  those  objects  in- 
spired the  hankering  I  developed,  the  burning  desire  to 

21 


go  down  into  the  depths  of  the  sea  some  day,  or  whether 
the  queer  things  merely  catered  to  my  natural  instinct  in 
the  matter.  At  any  rate,  I  touched  them  reverently  and 
I  asked  many  questions  of  Landlord  Vose  and  he  told  me 
hair-raising  stories  which,  he  said,  his  brother  had  told 
him.  I  remember  that  when  I  was  so  young  I  was  still 
wearing  a  plaid  kilt,  I  got  down  on  all-fours  and  stuck 
my  leg  in  the  air  at  his  request;  he  called  it  "playing 
circus,"  and  gave  me  a  penny.  He  said  I  was  a  smart 
boy  and  allowed  that  a  smart  boy  might  grow  up  and  be 
made  a  diver  by  Jodrey  Vose.  So  there  was  an  idea  put 
into  my  head  at  an  early  age.  And  Dodovah  Vose  used 
to  call  me  "Lobster  Sidney" — a  truly  deep-water  nick- 
name! He  had  a  rather  droll  idea  of  a  joke — it  was  to 
prompt  youngsters  to  go  and  make  fools  of  themselves. 
My  folks  gave  me  the  middle  name  of  Webster.  In  order 
to  plague  the  new  schoolma'am,  Dodovah  Vose  told  me 
to  insist  on  the  first  day  of  school  that  my  name  was  Ross 
Webster  Lobster  Sidney — and  I  did,  even  though  the  boys 
in  the  school  laughed  themselves  sick.  Mr.  Vose  praised 
me  because  I  had  obeyed  orders,  and  gave  me  a  conch- 
shell  on  which,  by  the  aid  of  three  finger-stops,  one  could 
play  more  or  less  of  a  tune.  He  had  already  given  to  me 
a  shell  which  whispered  in  my  ear  the  everlasting  murmur- 
ing of  the  great  ocean  I  had  never  seen. 

It  was  a  big  fountain-shell  from  somewhere  in  the 
West  Indies,  and  it  fairly  boomed,  deep  in  its  spirals, 
when  I  held  it  to  my  ear;  I  sensed  all  the  vastness 
and  the  mystery  and  the  solemnity  of  the  ocean  depths. 
The  more  I  listened  the  better  acquainted  I  seemed 
to  be  with  a  wonderful  stranger  far  away  at  the  other 
end  of  a  wire. 

It  really  seemed  like  a  call  to  bigger  things,  and  my  job 
with  my  uncle  was  getting  less  and  less  to  my  taste.  If 
there's  any  such  thing  as  the  angels  looking  down  on 
earth  over  the  parapets  of  heaven  in  their  hours  off  duty, 
some  of  the  things  my  uncle  would  do  in  horse  trades,  in 

22 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

order  to  get  back  at  other  cheaters,  must  have  grieved 
the  judicious  in  the  upper  spheres. 

I  didn't  realize  it  at  the  time,  but  I  can  look  back  now 
and  see  how  my  lashings  to  the  life  in  Levant  were  in  the 
way  of  severance,  one  by  one. 

I  found  no  comfort  in  the  lull  of  Skokum  activities;  I 
reckoned  that  the  boys  were  reorganizing  and  getting 
ready  for  a  really  big  slam.  I  felt  as  a  timid  girl  must 
feel  in  a  thunder-shower  when  the  thing  is  right  overhead 
and  there's  an  extra  wait  between  claps. 

I  continued  to  visit  the  tavern  evenings  and  I  came 
into  closer  intimacy  with  Dodovah  Vose.  He  brought 
out  old  letters  written  by  his  brother  and  read  them  to. 
me.  In  one  Jodrey  Vose  described  his  venture  on  the 
sunken  British  frigate  Triton  somewhere  off  the  coast 
of  Nova  Scotia.  She  was  bringing  pay  to  the  Hessian 
troops  in  the  American  colonies,  so  old  reports  had  it. 
Jodrey  Vose  was  more  of  a  diver  than  a  writer  and  his, 
letter  had  no  frills.  He  informed  his  brother,  who  had 
invested  modestly  in  the  gamble  at  Jodrey's  suggestion, 
that  the  thing  was  a  failure,  though  the  frigate  had  been 
located  by  dragging  and  Jodrey  himself  had  gone  down  and 
explored  her  where  she  had  lain  for  more  than  a  century. 

Diver  Vose  stated  bluntly  that  he  believed,  from  what 
he  saw  down  there,  that  the  Triton  had  been  scuttled 
or  blown  up  by  certain  of  her  officers,  who  secured  her 
treasure,  escaped  to  the  main  in  small  boats  and  reported 
her  loss  in  a  storm ;  tradition  has  it  that  there  was  always 
considerable  doubt  about  that  storm.  Also,  tradition  has 
it  that  those  officers  settled  in  America  and  lived  happily 
ever  after.  Diver  Vose  tried  to  help  pay  expenses  by 
raising  the  cannon.  But  though  they  seemed  sound 
enough  under  the  sea,  they  crumbled  into  lumpy  masses 
after  they  were  exposed  to  the  air. 

"But  I  never  begrudged  the  money  I  put  in,"  Dodovah 
Vose  told  me.  "I  got  my  curiosity  scratched  where  it 
had  been  itching  for  a  good  many  years,  ever  since  Jodrey 

3  23 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

and  I  first  began  to  talk  about  the  Triton.  And  I  helped 
my  brother  get  something  off  his  mind.  He  wouldn't 
have  died  easy  if  he  hadn't  made  sure  about  that  treasure. 
I  stand  ready  to  invest  in  another  scheme  of  his  if  he  ever 
gets  ready  to  tackle  it.  That's  to  go  down  and  dig  in 
the  bottom  of  the  river  Tiber,  providing  he  can  fix  it  with 
the  town  officers  of  Rome.  As  near  as  we  can  find  out  from 
history,  Jodrey  and  I,  when  the  Romans  wasn't  throwing 
their  treasures  into  the  river  to  keep  'em  away  from  one 
another  in  their  civil  wars,  the  barbarians  were  up  to  the 
same  game,  because  they  didn't  enjoy  art.  And,  of  course, 
there's  always  the  treasure  of  the  Golden  Gate!  That's  in 
modern  times." 

But  it  was  not  in  times  sufficiently  modern  so  that  I 
knew  anything  about  it,  as  my  blank  stare  showed. 

"She  caught  fire  on  her  way  from  San  Francisco  to  the 
Isthmus  and  was  run  ashore  with  three  or  four  million 
dollars'  worth  of  gold  ingots  in  her.  That's  fact!  But 
Jodrey  says  there's  been  so  much  blasted  lying  done  since 
by  owners,  underwriters,  divers,  claimers,  and  others, 
that  nobody  knows  for  sure  just  what  has  become  of  the 
treasure.  That's  another  of  his  hankerings — to  find  out!" 

More  and  more  did  I  feel  the  spirit  of  adventure  stirring 
in  me! 

I  could  not  understand  why  the  whereabouts  of  that 
great  treasure  should  remain  in  doubt,  and  so  I  expressed 
myself  to  Mr.  Vose. 

"There's  some  sort  of  a  mystery  about  it — and  so  far's 
my  brother  is  concerned  he  can't  drop  regular  contracts 
to  go  chasing  dreams — only  once  in  so  often.  That 
Triton  case  made  a  hearty  meal  for  his  curiosity — he 
hasn't  been  hungry  for  high-spiced  stuff  since."  He 
looked  at  me  with  shrewd  kindness.  "Maybe  he'll  let 
you  go  on  that  job  after  he  has  made  a  diver  out  of  you." 

I  felt  a  flush  in  my  cheeks. 

"I  suppose  you  have  been  poking  a  little  fun  at  me  all 
along  when  you  have  hinted  at  my  being  a  diver,  sir. 

24 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

Do  you  really  believe  your  brother  would  give  me  a 
thought?" 

"He  might,  if  you  went  to  him  backed  up  with  a  letter 
from  me." 

"I  have  a  mind  to  ask  you  for  that  letter." 

"And  you'll  not  get  it,  my  boy!  I  don't  propose  to 
have  your  uncle  Deck  come  yowling  and  clawing  at  me 
like  an  old  tom-cat  because  I  have  coaxed  his  handy-Andy 
away  from  him." 

"I  don't  like  the  kind  of  work  he  puts  me  to,  Mr.  Vose. 
I  have  grown  up  to  be  a  man,  almost,  and  I  understand 
better  than  I  did  at  first." 

"You  understand,  for  instance,  that  when  you  took 
that  cow  away  from  Andrew  P.  Corson  last  week  you 
left  his  baby  without  milk!"  He  stroked  his  nose  and 
peered  at  me  from  under  eyelids  that  were  cocked  like 
little  tents. 

"There  was  a  bill  of  sale!  He  made  me  go  and  get  the 
cow." 

"But  do  you  know  what  your  uncle  did,  after  that?" 

"No,  sir!" 

"He  went  to  Andrew  P.  Corson  and  said  you  acted 
without  orders.  He  lent  Corson  the  money  to  buy  another 
cow." 

I  stammered  out  something  about  not  understanding 
that. 

"But  I  do,"  said  Landlord  Vose.  "Your  uncle  Deck 
wants  to  get  into  politics  in  this  town — he  wants  to  get 
into  politics  far  enough  so  that  he  can  do  something  to 
Judge  Kingsley.  He  reckons  you  don't  need  any  popu- 
larity. He  is  starting  you  out  with  considerable  of  a 
handicap  if  you  mean  to  live  and  prosper  in  your  own 
town.  However,  I  won't  do  anything  to  encourage  you 
to  leave!  I've  got  to  keep  on  living  in  the  town — along- 
side your  uncle  Deck!" 

A  flash  of  family  loyalty  prompted  me  to  assert  that 
my  uncle  was  good  to  the  poor. 

25 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"  That  he  is,"  said  Dodovah  Vose.  "  He  is  a  queer  man, 
your  uncle  is.  But  I  don't  want  to  make  a  pauper  of 
myself  in  order  to  curry  favor  with  him." 

It  came  to  me  that  I'd  better  have  a  talk  with  my  uncle, 
and  I  started  out,  crossing  the  village  square  on  my  way 
home. 

All  at  once  something  landed  heavily  and  violently  on 
my  shoulders,  and  the  attack  was  so  sudden  that  I  was 
borne  to  the  ground  with  such  a  crack  of  my  forehead  on 
the  hard  earth  that  I  became  unconscious,  but  not  until 
I  had  felt  claws  of  some  sort  tearing  at  my  cheeks. 

When  I  came  to  my  senses  I  was  back  in  the  tavern 
foreroom  and  Dodovah  Vose  was  swabbing  my  face  with 
a  sponge  wet  in  warm  water.  In  a  corner  of  the  room 
Constable  Nute  and  two  helpers  were  hog-tying  old  Benme 
Holt,  the  village  fool. 

"I  ain't  a  dove  of  peace  no  longer — I  ain't  a  rooster  no 
longer,"  he  was  squalling.  "I'm  a  bald-headed  eagle! 
They  told  me  I'm  an  eagle.  I  allus  knowed  I  was  some 
kind  of  a  fowl.  They  lied  to  me  when  they  said  I  was  a 
dove  of  peace.  I'm  an  eagle.  See  what  I've  done!  I've 
mallywhacked  him.  He  made  fun  of  me  when  I  was  a 
dove.  Others  made  fun  of  me — but  now  they'd  better 
look  out.  I'm  an  eagle." 

Whatever  the  old  idiot  had  been  or  thought  he  had 
been,  he  was  then  plainly  a  raving  maniac.  In  his  struggles 
he  was  shedding  turkey  feathers  with  which  he  had 
thatched  his  coat.  As  far  back  as  I  could  remember  old 
Bennie  Holt,  he  used  to  stand  in  the  square  with  feathers 
of  various  sorts  stuck  around  his  hat,  harmlessly  indulg- 
ing his  vagary.  But  never  before  had  he  raised  his  hand 
against  any  human  being. 

"I  reckon  that  this  time  you  fired  a  boomerang,  young 
Sidney,"  stated  the  constable,  reproachfully.  "Old  Bangs 
didn't  fly  back  and  hit  you,  but  this  one  has.  The  village 
will  be  glad  to  hear  it." 

"You'd  better  be  careful  what  you  report  about  me," 

26 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

I  told  him.  "I  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  old 
Bennie.  Mr.  Vose  will  answer  for  me." 

"We  know  where  to  plaster  the  blame  when  anything 
happens  in  this  place,"  insisted  Nute.  "Now  you've 
sent  another  one  to  the  bug-house!" 

It  did  not  seem  to  be  of  much  use  to  talk  to  that  raving 
old  man,  but  I  tried  it.  I  asked  him  who  had  been  talking 
to  him. 

"My  guardeen  angels,"  he  screamed.  "They  all  come 
to  me  and  told  me.  They  was  in  white  and  they  told  me." 

I  myself  had  furnished  the  pillow-case  cowls  to  the 
Skokums  out  of  the  second-hand  stock  in  my  uncle's, 
storehouse ! 

"There  must  be  some  mistake  this  time,  Nute,"  said 
Landlord  Vose.  "Young  Sidney  has  been  spending  his. 
evenings  here  in  the  tavern  for  quite  some  time." 

"Trying  to  put  up  a  bluff,  that's  all.  The  one  who 
torches  on  a  fool  can't  complain  if  the  fool  kicks  back. 
Here's  more  expense  to  the  town,  boarding  an  insane 
man  at  the  State  hospital.  It  didn't  cost  us  anything  as. 
long  as  he  e't  broken  crackers  out  of  the  grocery-stores 
and  slept  in  the  livery-stable.  I  reckon  Town-Treasurer 
Kingsley  will  say  that  this  ends  up  his  patience." 

"Don't  you  dare  to  tell  Judge  Kingsley  that  I  had 
anything  to  do  with  getting  old  Bennie  in  this  state,"  I 
cried.  My  face  smarted  dreadfully,  for  Dodovah  Vose 
was  putting  on  some  kind  of  stuff  to  kill  the  poison  of  the. 
fool's  finger-nails,  so  he  explained. 

"I  don't  need  to  tell  him;  he'll  know  it  for  himself." 

"I'll  find  out  who  did  do  it!    I  know  well  enough!" 

"Of  course  you  know." 

It  was  maddening — this  determination  on  the  part  of 
Levant  to  put  me  in  the  wrong  in  all  matters  of  local 
disturbance.  Here  was  I,  victim  of  the  resentment  of 
the  Skokums  because  I  was  trying  to  obey  my  promise 
to  Celene  Kingsley,  now  in  imminent  danger  of  further 
repute  as  the  ringleader  of  the  latest  atrocity — evea 

27 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

though  I  was  the  sole  sufferer  after  the  devil  had  been 
stirred  up  in  the  old  loafer. 

"You  fired  him,  and  the  boomerang  swung  around 
back  and  hit  you — that's  all,"  insisted  the  constable. 
"His  mouth  has  been  full  of  something  you  have  done 
to  him.  If  it  wasn't  you  he  wouldn't  be  talking  about 
you." 

While  Dodovah  Vose  was  finishing  with  my  lacerated 
face  I  pondered  on  what  he  had  said  about  my  uncle's 
indifference  in  regard  to  my  popularity  in  town. 

Then  I  stood  up  in  the  tavern  foreroom  and  cursed 
family  and  foes  and  town  with  such  lurid  invective — my 
vocabulary  and  force  being  so  far  beyond  the  ordinary 
capabilities  of  youth — that  even  the  crazy  man  was 
shocked  into  silence.  I  was  ashamed  of  myself  even  as  I 
ranted.  But  then,  as  in  after-times,  my  temper  swept 
me  out  of  myself.  I  was  blind  and  dizzy  and  there  was  a 
roar  in  my  ears  like  the  rush  of  water.  I  swung  the  fires 
of  anger  about  myself  as  a  juggler  whirls  his  flaming 
torches.  I  was  sorry  as  soon  as  it  was  over — I  have  always 
been  sorry  when  my  frenzy  has  passed. 

When  I  bowed  my  head  and  walked  out  of  the  tavern 
I  heard  the  constable  clucking  away  like  an  offended  old 
hen. 

"It's  all  a  matter  for  the  judge  to  consider — language 
and  all,"  he  declared. 

"But  I  insist  that  he  is  a  good  boy  in  his  heart,"  said 
Dodovah  Vose. 

"Can't  be — coming  out  of  that  family — and  with  the 
general  reputation  he  has  got  since  he  has  worked  for  his 
uncle  the  last  four  years,"  insisted  the  constable.  Fine 
dwelling-place  for  me — Levant,  eh? 

My  uncle  was  in  bed  and  asleep  when  I  got  to  the  house 
— and  perhaps  it  was  just  as  well,  because  I  was  quickly 
forgetting  my  shame  and  was  ready  for  a  further  squabble ; 
a  disposition  on  my  part  which  has  never  been  especially 
helpful  during  my  life. 

28 


WHERE   YOUR    TREASURE    IS 

I  made  careful  and  disgusted  study  of  my  striped  face 
in  the  looking-glass  before  I  went  to  bed.  In  spite  of  my 
innocence,  there  I  was,  the  labeled  participator  in  an 
affray.  In  this  world,  as  you  have  probably  noticed,  the 
man  who  carries  around  a  blacked  eye  or  a  bunged  lip 
never  succeeds  in  dissipating  the  suspicion  that  he  has 
been  in  some  sort  of  a  disgraceful  mix-up,  in  which  he  was 
more  or  less  to  blame.  You  may  remember  how  you 
yourself  have  felt  in  the  case  of  your  friends,  even  when 
a  sliding  rug  or  a  closet  door  has  been  saddled  with  the 
blame.  A  man  with  a  marked -up  physog  is  never  at 
his  best  as  a  defendant.  I  dreaded  the  next  day,  for  it 
seemed  pretty  certain  that  I  would  have  to  face  Judge 
Kingsley.  But  the  feeling  that  his  daughter  might  be 
brought  to  doubt  the  sincerity  of  my  promises,  when 
she  heard  the  story  and  beheld  my  face,  kept  me  awake 
more  effectually  than  did  the  pain  of  that  ferocious  clapper- 
clawing. 


IV 

THE  TRAINING  OF  THE  QUEEN  OF  "SHEBY" 

I  WAS  awake  so  long  in  the  night  I  overslept  next 
morning,  of  course.  Breakfast  had  been  cleared  away 
by  the  time  I  got  dressed  and  was  down-stairs. 

I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  have  a  run-in  with  my  uncle, 
but  I  was  starting  with  a  disadvantage.  Coming  late  to 
breakfast  in  that  busy  household  amounted  almost  to  a 
crime,  and  the  look  of  disgust  my  aunt  Lucretia  set  on 
my  face  made  my  courage  drop  tail.  She  was  never 
amiable,  and  she  considered  me  an  intruder  in  the  family, 
as  well  I  knew. 

"I  have  left  your  doughnuts  and  coffee  in  the  but'ry — 
and  your  uncle  wants  you  in  the  stable."  She  turned  her 
back  and  went  on  with  what  she  was  doing  at  the  stove. 

I  ate  the  doughnuts  on  my  way  to  the  stable,  trying  to 
whip  up  my  rancor.  I  expected  to  be  received  with  a 
hoot  and  a  howl,  and  depended  on  those  spurs  to  start 
my  own  temper  on  the  gallop. 

Uncle  Deck  was  just  pushing  a  bottle  back  into  the 
oats  in  the  bin.  He  slammed  down  the  cover  and  wiped 
his  mouth  and  grinned  at  me.  He  was  in  the  best  of 
good  humor.  I  was  chewing  on  food  his  money  had 
bought,  and,  I  repeat,  he  was  as  pleasant  as  a  basket  of 
chips.  In  the  face  of  that  I  couldn't  screw  a  mean  word 
out  of  myself. 

"She  sure  was  some  operator  with  her  claws,"  he  re- 
marked. But  he  wouldn't  listen  to  my  indignant  explana- 
tion; he  plainly  had  his  own  business  on  his  mind  that 
morning,  and  it  was  business  which  seemed  to  be  affording 

30 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

much  satisfaction.  He  gave  me  a  push  toward  the  harness- 
room,  the  sanctum  where  he  performed  most  of  his  devil- 
try in  horse  matters. 

In  that  harness-room  was  hitched  the  worst -looking 
old  pelter  of  a  plug  I  had  ever  laid  eyes  on. 

Uncle  Deck  put  his  hands  on  his  hips  and  swapped 
looks  between  myself  and  the  horse.  He  was  master  of  a 
certain  kind  of  cheap,  horse-jockey  patter  which  he  em- 
ployed at  fairs  when  he  wanted  to  call  a  crowd  around. 
He  struck  a  pose  and  "orated." 

"Having  a  knowledge  of  hoss  pedigree,  relatives,  pre- 
vious condition  of  servitude,  religious  preferences,  and 
other  matters  pertaining  to,  and  so  forth,  even  going  back 
to  the  fact  that  the  hoss  Bucephalorus,  that  was  owned  by 
the  late  Aleck  the  Great,  cocked  his  left  hind  leg  when  he 
stood  in  the  stall,  had  a  nicked  right  ear,  and  a  wind-gall 
puff  behind  each  fore  shoulder,  I  want  to  say  that  I 
reckon  that  never  before  was  there  gathered,  collected, 
and  assembled  on  four  legs  every  kind  of  a  pimple,  bump, 
wheeze,  scratch,  spavin,  horn  ail,  hock  bunch,  trick,  and 
bobblewhoop,  that's  laid  down  by  old  Medicombobulus, 
in  his  book  entitled  '  Things  a  Hoss  Can  Get  Along  With- 
out.' I  call  this  ancient  Gothic  ruin  'Carpenter  Boy,' 
sired  by  Pod  Auger,  dammed  by  Hemlock  Maid — and,  in 
fact,  damned  by  everybody  who  has  ever  owned  him. 
Speed  is  developed  in  him  by  feeding  the  celebrated 
spiral  oats,  produced  by  crossing  shoe -pegs  with  bed- 
springs,  which  in  process  of  being  digested  uncoil  and 
carry  the  animile  in  leaps  like  the  mountain-goat." 

After  that  outburst  I  definitely,  in  my  own  mind,  set 
forward  to  some  future  date  the  matter  of  an  under- 
standing with  my  uncle. 

"How  did  it  ever  happen  that  anybody  could  unload 
this  on  you?"  I  asked  him. 

"Because  I  went  out  hunting  for  it,  sonny.  It  was  the 
worst  I  could  do  on  short  notice.  If  it  had  looked  worse 
and  had  had  more  ailments  and  outs  I  would  have  paid 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

more  for  it.  Now  ask  no  more  questions,  but  lend  a  hand 
to  what  I  tell  you  to  do." 

I  have  no  time  to  go  into  the  details  of  what  my  uncle 
Deck  did  to  that  equine  framework,  but  if  I  could  de- 
scribe it  all  I'd  be  furnishing  considerable  of  a  hand- 
book for  the  uses  of  tricky  horse-swappers.  I  had  helped 
in  many  similar  jobs  in  that  back  room  of  his  stable,  but 
I  had  never  seen  him  put  so  much  art  and  soul  into  the 
work  before;  he  seemed  to  have  special  reasons  for  his 
painstaking  toil.  He  chuckled  whenever  he  secured  a 
particularly  good  result;  at  times  he  gritted  his  teeth 
and  swore  under  his  breath  regarding  some  party  whom 
he  did  not  name.  But  I  gathered  that  this  transformation 
of  a  horse  was  intended  as  satisfaction  of  one  of  his  bit- 
terest grudges. 

He  had  everything  to  do  with  in  that  horse  beauty- 
parlor  of  his.  There  were  ointments  and  colorings,  false 
hair  for  mane  and  tail,  skin-patches  and  disguises  for 
puffs  and  swellings.  But  still  the  horse  remained  gaunt; 
the  rafters  of  his  ribs  suggested  that  he  needed  to  be 
shingled  in.  To  my  general  wonderment  as  to  what  my 
uncle  was  about,  anyway,  was  now  added  more  lively 
curiosity;  how  was  this  living  skeleton  to  be  disguised 
as  to  skinniness?  I  found  out  before  long.  My  uncle  put 
on  the  poor  brute  a  bridle  with  a  wicked  twist-bit  and  told 
me  to  hold  him,  no  matter  how  much  he  kicked  about. 

Then  Uncle  Deck  brought  out  a  bit  of  board  into 
which  shoe-pegs  had  been  set  thickly.  He  began  to  clap 
the  pegged  board  against  the  horse's  skin.  I  had  my  work 
cut  out  for  me  after  that,  I  can  tell  you.  The  pain  must 
have  been  excruciating,  for  the  bradding  -  pegs  raised 
blisters.  In  a  little  while  the  ribs  were  hidden  by  this 
new  and  deceptive  plumpness.  The  horse  took  on  the 
appearance  of  an  animal  which  had  been  well  cared  for 
in  the  food  line.  And  he  certainly  displayed  the  spirit  of 
Phcebus's  nigh  wheel-horse.  His  nostrils  snorted  furiously 
and  his  eyes  flamed.  It  seemed  incredible  that  this  animal 

32 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

with  flowing  mane  and  tail,  with  round  barrel  and  smooth 
limbs,  was  the  decrepit  old  creature  I  had  seen  on  my 
arrival  in  the  room. 

Lastly,  my  uncle  Deck  oiled  the  horse  from  stem  to 
stern,  smoothing  the  hair  into  place,  and  then  stood  and 
admired  his  handiwork. 

"Now  let's  see  what  the  needle  will  do  for  style  and 
knee  action,"  he  said.  He  gave  the  horse  a  jab  with  the 
hypodermic — I  had  seen  him  do  that  at  horse-trots  just 
before  the  race  was  started.  He  hitched  a  long  rope  into 
the  bridle  and  led  the  animal  out  into  the  yard.  In  a  few 
moments  the  horse  was  prancing  and  curveting  and 
whickering  like  a  blueblood  of  youth  and  spirit. 

"But  he  won't  last  this  way!"  I  said. 

My  uncle  turned  withering  side-glance  on  me.  "Do 
you  think  you're  telling  me  something  I  didn't  know? 
Of  course  he  won't  last.  I  don't  want  him  to  last.  If 
he  would  pop  like  a  blown-up  paper  bag  when  I  got 
ready  to  have  it  happen  I'd  like  it  alt  the  better.  But,  as 
it  is,  it  '11  be  bad  enough.  Don't  you  know  a  good  name 
for  him  out  of  some  of  those  books  you  have  read,  son?" 

But  while  I  was  hesitating  my  uncle  clipped  in  with 
his  usual  impatience. 

"I  have  thought  of  it  already!  'Judge,'  that's  his 
name.  When  she  hears  Trufant  call  him  'Judge'  the  co- 
incidence will  catch  her  interest,  likely  enough.  She  will 
prick  up  her  ears!" 

Right  then  I  pricked  up  my  own  ears.  I  understood 
mighty  sudden.  I  had  seen  the  writing  tacked  on  the 
notice-board  in  the  post-office  the  day  before.  Judge 
Kingsley  had  let  it  be  known  that  he  was  in  the  market 
for  a  driving-horse,  suitable  for  use  by  ladies.  I  had  read 
it  with  mingled  emotions,  realizing  that  Celene  Kingsley 
had  grown  to  girlhood  out  of  childhood ;  no  longer  a  pony- 
cart  for  her! 

"But  he'll  never  buy  a  horse  from  you?"  I  blurted, 
staring  at  my  uncle. 

33 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"Who  won't?" 

"  Judge  Kingsley." 

"Probably  he  wouldn't  if  he  thought  it  came  from  me. 
But  I'm  baiting  a  hook  that  he'll  swallow  or  I'm  no 
guesser." 

My  eyes  were  full  of  questions  and  he  saw  fit  to  humor 
me. 

"Seeing  it's  all  in  the  family,  son,  I'll  tell  you.  I've 
got  to  let  out  a  few  holes  in  my  surcingle  or  I'll  bust. 
'  Squealing  John '  Runnels,  of  Carmel,  will  drive  this  hoss 
into  Judge  Kingsley 's  dooryard  to-night,  around  dusk, 
representing  that  he  is  a  poor  woman  who  needs  money 
in  a  hurry  so  that  she  can  get  her  husband  out  of  trouble. 
'Squealing  John'  has  got  a  woman's  voice,  and  he  will 
wear  some  of  his  wife's  clothes." 

"I  don't  see  how  you  can  get  a  man  to  do  that,"  I 
objected. 

My  uncle  raised  his  hand  above  his  head  and  slowly 
clinched  his  fingers. 

"A  man  will  do  'most  anything  when  you've  got  a  fore- 
closure clutch  on  his  weazen.  I'm  making  the  whole 
thing  plenty  crazy  so  that  the  laugh  will  be  bigger  when 
the  truth  comes  out.  He'll  buy  this  hoss — there's  no 
doubt  of  it.  Old  John  will  give  him  only  twenty  minutes 
to  decide.  Short  notice  on  account  of  the  hypo  juice  I'll 
shoot  in  up  around  the  turn  of  the  street!  Must  have  a 
quick  decision  because  I  reckon  the  hoss  will  stagger  up 
against  a  fence  and  die  mighty  soon  after  old  John  gets 
out  of  sight.  Clek-clek!  Gid-dap!"  He  yanked  on  the 
rope  and  the  horse  frolicked.  "Whoa,  Judge!  Plenty  of 
knee  action!  Sound  in  wind,  limb,  and  peepers!  Safe 
for  the  ladies!"  He  pulled  in  on  the  rope,  grabbed  the 
bridle,  and  led  the  horse  to  a  stall.  "If  we  get  over  two 
hundred  I'll  slip  you  ten  dollars  for  your  part  of  the 
job,"  he  called  to  me.  "It's  time  for  you  to  understand 
that  there's  good  money  in  a  sharp  dicker." 

I  did  not  have  the  courage  to  tell  him  what  I  thought. 

34 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  tried  to  frame  some  sort  of  a  reproach  when  he  went  to 
the  oat-bin  and  pulled  out  his  bottle.  But  he  grinned 
over  his  shoulder  at  me!  If  he  had  had  any  short  and 
sharp  words  for  me  that  day  I  would  have  burst  out,  I'm 
sure  of  it. 

But  he  was  wonderfully  kind  to  me  that  last  day  I  ever 
spent  in  his  home,  under  his  thumb. 

"You'd  better  stay  close  around  the  house  till  your 
face  looks  less  like  the  battle-flag  of  freedom,  son,"  he 
advised  me.  "  Cats  will  be  cats,  and  girls  will  show  claws !" 
He  went  away  about  his  business  and  I  hung  around  the 
stable,  taking  a  look  every  now  and  then  at  the  prepos- 
terous horse. 

I  was  made  party  to  a  most  horrible  deceit  on  Celene 
Kingsley.  To  be  sure,  the  fraud  most  nearly  concerned 
her  father  and  his  money.  But  the  horse  was  destined  for 
her.  I  could  not  get  that  idea  out  of  my  thoughts.  Prob- 
ably, after  the  trade  had  been  made,  my  uncle  would 
brag  that  I  had  helped  him.  How  would  she  view  me? 
It  must  seem  to  her  that  some  of  my  promises  had  already 
been  broken,  for  I  was  certain  that  the  matter  of  old 
Bennie  was  being  canvassed  that  day  in  the  village. 
There  was  such  a  thing  as  family  loyalty,  I  admitted,  as  I 
pondered  on  the  situation.  But  to  allow  my  tough  uncle 
to  tramp  through  the  little  sanctuary  where  I  enshrined 
my  love,  to  pull  me  into  a  vulgar  scheme  which  must  ruin 
forever  all  my  hopes,  poor  and  futile  though  they  were, 
these  were  sacrifices  I  did  not  feel  called  on  to  undergo. 
I  had  my  own  pride  to  consider.  I  no  longer  dreamed  of 
ever  possessing  Celene  Kingsley.  What  was  in  me  was  a 
romantic  hope  that  she  would  think  on  me  once  in  a 
while  when  I  was  far,  far  away — remembering  that  I  was 
her  slave  in  what  she  asked  and  that  I  had  asked  nothing 
of  her. 

However,  to  have  her  memories  of  me  mixed  in  with 
thoughts  of  the  horse-trading  cheat  which  I  had  con- 
nived at  was  reflection  unendurable. 

35 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  went  to  the  wood-shed  and  secured  an  ax.  It  oc- 
curred to  me  that  when  a  horse  had  so  many  bumps  on 
him,  one  more  and  a  deadly  bump  on  his  forehead  would 
not  attract  much  attention;  furthermore,  my  uncle 
seemed  to  think  that  the  animal's  course  was  nearly 
run. 

I  faced  the  brute.  His  ears  were  hanging  in  despond- 
ency. His  eyes  were  dropping  tears;  those  blisters  must 
have  been  stinging  like  the  martyr's  skin  under  the  shirt 
of  fire.  When  I  looked  on  that  woe  all  my  resolution 
left  me.  I  dropped  the  ax.  There  were  tears  in  my  own 
eyes.  I  felt  as  if  he  were  my  brother  in  common  sorrow. 
So  I  went  to  the  cellar  and  fetched  apples  and  carrots 
and  fed  them  into  his  gratefully  slobbering  mouth  until 
he  sighed  and  spraddled  his  legs  and  went  to  sleep. 

Constable  Nute  came  for  me  during  the  day. 

"There  ain't  any  subpeny  to  this,  young  Sidney,"  he 
informed  me.  "If  you  feel  too  guilty  to  face  Judge 
Kingsley,  who  is  making  an  informal  investigation,  you 
needn't  come." 

"I  am  not  guilty.  I'm  not  afraid  to  face  the  judge." 
And  I  went  along.  There  was  no  one  else  in  his  office. 
He  had  been  calling  in  persons  and  examining  them  one 
by  one.  I  was  alone  with  him  after  Nute  left. 

I  gave  in  my  version  of  what  had  happened  the  night 
before  and  declared  that  I  had  had  nothing  whatever  to  do 
with  putting  notions  into  the  noddle  of  the  village  fool. 

"But  as  to  this  society  of  young  vandals  which  has 
been  disgracing  the  village?  Certain  members  of  the  gang 
have  confessed  to  me  that  you  are  the  organizer  and  the 
ringleader." 

"And  I  confess  that  I  was  leader  at  first,"  I  owned  up 
to  him,  just  as  manfully  as  I  could.  Then  I  told  him 
about  Mr.  Bird.  "When  I  realized  that  I  was  making  a 
mistake  I  stopped  being  leader.  I  have  had  nothing  to 
do  with  the  society  since." 

He  had  a  way  of  shooting  speech  out  through  his  pinched 

36 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

nostrils  with  a  sort  of  a  jew's-harp  twang.  He  leaned 
back  in  his  chair  and  gave  me  a  good  looking  over. 

"Becoming  an  angel  overnight  by  the  natural  piety 
of  the  Sidney  disposition,  eh  ?  Young  man,  you  are  lying 
to  me!  Now  tell  me  the  real  reason  why  you  quit  your 
devilishness." 

I  had  no  mind  to  tell  him,  and  I  was  silent. 

' '  You  had  another  reason,  didn't  you  ?    A  better  reason  ?" 

I  confessed  that  I  had.  But  I  wouldn't  tell  him  what 
it  was,  even  when  he  raised  his  voice  to  me  and  pounded 
on  the  table  with  his  fist.  If  he  had  been  the  right  kind 
of  a  man  I  would  have  told  him,  for  a  proper  man  would 
have  been  proud  of  his  daughter  under  those  circum- 
stances. But  I  knew  that  Judge  Kingsley  would  consider 
that  she  had  disgraced  herself  by  talking  to  me. 

"You  can't  tell  the  truth — you  won't  tell  the  truth — 
for  the  truth  isn't  in  you,"  he  stormed.  "You  are  con- 
victed by  the  tongues  of  the  boys  who  have  owned  up." 

"  I  knew  there  were  sneaks  in  the  crowd — that's  another 
reason  I  had  for  getting  out,  Judge  Kingsley." 

"If  anything  else  happens  in  this  village  we  shall  know 
where  to  place  the  blame." 

"It  isn't  fair,  Judge  Kingsley!"  I  remonstrated.  "I'm 
not  getting  a  square  deal  in  this  thing.  I  know  that  old 
Nute  has  been  talking  to  you  the  way  he  talked  to  me 
last  night.  They  are  all  bound  to  put  the  blame  on  to  me." 

"I  know  for  myself." 

"No,  sir!  You  don't  know  for  yourself.  You  say  I 
can't  tell  the  truth !  I'll  show  you  that  I  can,  even  when 
it's  to  my  own  hurt — yes,  sir,  to  my  awful  hurt!  You 
have  advertised  for  a  horse,  haven't  you?" 

"Yes." 

"My  uncle  is  going  to  send  around  a  man  dressed  in 
woman's  clothes — this  very  evening — so  as  to  fool  you 
in  the  dusk  with  the  worst  fraud  ever  propped  on  four 
legs." 

That  confession  didn't  help  me  a  bit  and  I  ought  to 

37 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

have  had  sense  enough  to  know  it  before  I  opened  my 
mouth.  I  had  made  the  judge  more  thoroughly  angry 
than  ever;  I  had  offended  his  pride  as  a  shrewd  business 
man. 

"What  cock-and-bull  yarn  is  this?  Do  you  think  I 
can  be  fooled  by  cheap  horse-jockey  tricks?  You  young 
fool,  what  do  you  mean  by  insulting  me?" 

"You  just  wait  till  you  see  the  horse,"  I  retorted.  "I 
helped  fix  him  and  I  didn't  know  him,  myself,  after  the 
job  was  done.  But  I  don't  want  to  see  you  gulled,  Judge 
Kingsley.  I  am  following  new  ways  from  now  on.  You 
know  my  uncle  and  how  I  am  beholden  to  him!  When  I 
open  up  to  you  about  him  it  ought  to  show  you  that  I 
want  to  be  honest,  no  matter  how  much  the  truth  is 
going  to  harm  me." 

"There's  no  decency  in  this  town — not  even  honor 
among  thieves,"  snarled  the  judge.  He  pointed  to  the 
door.  "That's  all  for  now,  young  Sidney!  Remember 
for  yourself — and  tell  others — that  the  grand  jury  sits  in 
this  county  within  a  fortnight!  Upon  actions  from  now 
on  depends  what  the  county  prosecutor  will  be  inclined 
to  do." 

Judge  Kingsley's  office  was  a  sort  of  ell  affair  built 
out  from  the  side  of  his  mansion.  When  I  left  it  I  ducked 
around  to  the  rear  of  the  house  and  made  off  down 
through  the  orchard,  having  no  relish  to  show  my  clawed 
face  to  the  public.  I  had  my  day  to  myself  and  I  did  not 
hurry ;  I  had  many  things  to  ponder  on. 

All  at  once  I  heard  the  sound  of  somebody  running  on 
the  turf  behind  me.  I  turned  and  faced  Celene.  I  curved 
my  forearm  across  my  countenance,  ashamed  of  my 
appearance,  her  own  flushed  cheeks  were  so  radiantly 
beautiful ! 

"I  know  how  it  happened.  I'm  sure  it  wasn't  your 
fault,"  she  said,  graciously. 

"They  ste'boyed  him  on  to  me!"  I  told  her.  "I  have 
tried  to  make  'em  stop  their  tricks,  just  as  I  promised 

38 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

you.  So  they  did  this  to  put  me  in  wrong.  Your  father 
is  hard  on  me !  I  tried  to  make  him  understand  that  I — 
— well,  I  wanted — " 

"I  overheard — I  couldn't  help  overhearing."  Then  her 
cheeks  grew  rosier.  "I '11  own  up.  I  listened  at  the  door. 
I  wanted  to  know.  And  that's  why  I  came  after  you. 
You  have  kept  our  little  secret  and  I  know  you  have  done 
your  best  in  other  ways.  So  that's  why  I'm  here.  I 
want  to  thank  you.  And — I —  Well,  I  think -that's  all!" 

It  seemed  to  finish  it  as  far  as  I  was  concerned,  too;  I 
couldn't  pump  a  word  up  out  of  myself.  So  we  stood 
there  and  looked  up  into  the  trees. 

"Father  has  been  talking  to  them  to-day,"  she  said, 
after  a  time.  "Perhaps  they  are  warned  now  and  won't 
be  up  to  any  more  mischief.  And  they  ought  to  be  sorry 
for  what  they  have  done  to  you.  I  think  you  can  have  a 
lot  of  influence  over  them  after  this." 

"I  don't  know  about  that.  I'm  going  away  from 
here." 

That  statement  astonished  her  just  as  much  as  it 
astonished  me.  I  had  not  thought  of  announcing  my 
departure  ten  seconds  before;  it  had  not  been  in  my 
mind  that  I  was  going  away.  But  all  of  a  sudden  the 
memory  of  what  I  had  told  the  judge  about  the  horse 
popped  into  my  thoughts.  Considering  what  would  be 
my  uncle's  state  of  mind  after  the  exposure,  I  reckon  the 
going-away  idea  followed  as  naturally  as  the  right  answer 
in  a  sum  of  addition. 

"I  had  supposed  that  your  outlook — your  position 
with  your  uncle — was  very  promising,"  she  said.  "The 
town  needs  smart  men." 

The  fact  that  she  had  spent  one  thought  upon  my 
condition  interested  me  more  than  the  implied  compliment. 

"  If  I  stay  with  him  I'll  only  be  a  country  cheat  and  horse- 
dickerer.  I  want  to  be  something  else,"  I  told  her.  "This 
very  day  my  uncle  is  trying  to  put  up  a  job  on  your 
father.  I  have  told  the  judge  about  it." 

4  39 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"I  heard  you.  It  was  another  reason  why  I  wanted 
to  speak  to  you — to  encourage  you  in  being  honest. 
There's  no  need  of  father  bringing  you  into  the  matter 
at  all.  It  would  only  make  trouble  between  your  uncle 
and  you.  I'll  speak  to  father." 

"You'd  better  not,  for  then  you'd  be  making  trouble 
for  yourself.  I'd  rather  take  all  the  blame  of  it." 

We  stood  and  looked  at  each  other  for  a  long  time. 

"I'm  not  a  coward,"  she  said. 

"But  it  will  come  out  about  me  blabbing — some  way 
it  will  come  out.  There's  no  need  of  you  being  in  the 
scrape.  I'm  going  away,  and  I  may  as  well  go  flying 
while  I'm  about  it!" 

"I  hope — "  she  said,  and  that  was  as  far  as  she  got.  I 
know  how  I  was  feeling  inside  and  perhaps  my  feelings 
showed  too  plainly  on  that  striped  face  of  mine.  She 
looked  scared  and  turned  and  hurried  away.  I  didn't 
know  whether  she  hoped  I'd  stay  in  Levant  or  hoped  I'd 
do  well  wherever  I  might  roam.  I  watched  her  out  of 
sight  and  she  did  not  turn  to  look  at  me.  I  couldn't 
exactly  figure  that  out — whether  she  didn't  want  to  give 
me  a  last  glance  or  didn't  dare  to. 

I  fingered  in  my  vest  pocket  while  she  was  running 
away;  when  she  disappeared  I  pulled  out  a  packet  and 
opened  it.  There  were  three  rings  in  it.  One  was  a  coral 
ring;  I  bought  it  when  I  was  fifteen  and  paid  thirty  cents 
for  it.  I  never  had  the  courage  to  give  it  to  her  when 
we  were  at  school.  There  was  a  silver  ring  which  I  bought 
a  year  later  when  my  circumstances  were  a  little  better — 
better  than  my  courage.  Lastly,  there  was  a  gold  ring 
which  I  had  secured  in  a  dicker  soon  after  our  meeting 
on  Purgatory  Hill.  I  am  not  going  to  discourse  on  the 
fool  impulse  which  prompted  me  to  buy  those  rings  and 
stick  them  in  my  vest  pocket.  Nor  will  I  say  anything 
concerning  another  impulse  which  made  me  wrap  the 
rings  up  and  drop  them  into  a  cleft  in  the  trunk  of  an 
apple-tree.  If  I  did  not  dare  to  give  them  to  her,  at  least 

40 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  could  leave  them  on  her  premises.  Then  I  went  by 
back  ways  to  my  uncle's  house. 

Before  I  was  out  of  sight  of  Judge  Kingsley's  mansion 
I  looked  behind  me  several  times.  I  didn't  know  but  I 
might  see  a  flutter  of  a  handkerchief  from  some  window, 
for  a  vague  and  queer  kind  of  hope  was  still  in  me.  I  saw 
no  flutter,  but  I  did  see  a  strange  man  who  was  strolling 
along  my  trail.  I  was  too  busy  with  other  thoughts  to 
wonder  who  he  might  be. 

I  found  my  uncle  admiring  the  transmogrified  horse. 

"I  have  been  whetting  the  old  hellion's  appetite,"  he 
said,  and  I  knew  by  the  expression  on  his  face  that  he 
was  referring  to  Judge  Kingsley.  "I  have  had  half  a 
dozen  fellows  from  the  back  districts  drive  one  old  skate 
after  another  into  his  dooryard,  and  inside  of  an  hour 
he'll  have  a  chance  to  inspect  a  few  more  skeletons  and 
bone-piles.  By  nightfall  he'll  be  hungry  for  a  peek  at 
something  which  doesn't  look  as  if  it  would  have  to  be 
pushed  on  casters  by  iron  reins.  Oh,  he's  hungry !  He'll 
swallow  this  one." 

More  than  ever  was  I  coming  to  understand  into  what 
complicated  and  precious  gears  I  had  flung  my  trig — and 
what  the  consequences  to  me  were  likely  to  be. 

"Now  come  out  into  the  harness-room,"  commanded 
my  uncle.  "I  want  you  to  have  a  look  at  the  Queen  of 
Sheby." 

I  had  never  seen  "Squealing  John"  Runnels,  but  that 
this  was  he  I  had  no  doubt.  He  sat  on  an  upturned 
grain-bucket  with  his  skirts  pulled  up  about  him,  wore 
a  woman's  broad  hat  of  dingy  black  felt,  and  a  veil  partly 
draped  his  face;  he  was  smoking  a  corn-cob  pipe. 

"  I'll  be  cussed  if  I  see  any  good  sense  in  being  titrivated 
out  like  this  the  whole  afternoon,"  he  complained,  in  tones 
as  strident  as  a  scolding  woman's.  "It's  getting  on  to  my 
nerves." 

"You've  got  to  get  used  to  'em,  you  old  fool,"  barked 
my  uncle,  "I  don't  propose  to  have  you  forgetting  your- 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

self.  It  would  be  just  like  you,  right  in  the  middle  of  that 
dicker-talk,  to  pull  up  your  dress  and  reach  into  your 
pants  pocket  for  a  plug  of  tobacco.  Now  get  up  and  let 
me  see  you  practise  walking;  and  forget  that  you're 
wearing  pants." 

Runnels  went  grunting  and  limping  around  the  room, 
whining  like  a  teased  quill-pig.  His  feet  were  pinched 
into  women's  shoes.  My  uncle  seemed  to  see  much 
humor  in  this  exhibition,  but  I  couldn't  find  any.  It 
looked  to  me  only  like  a  grotesque  sham,  and  pitiful,  too, 
for  I  knew  it  was  not  going  to  succeed.  "Squealing 
John  "  appeared  to  be  of  the  same  opinion.  He  kept  com- 
plaining that  he  would  not  be  able  to  fool  a  sharp  man  like 
the  judge,  and  asked,  anxiously,  what  the  law  penalty 
was  when  a  man  dressed  up  like  a  woman. 

"I'm  a  good  mind  to  let  ye  foreclose  and  be  shet  of  the 
thing,"  he  said,  facing  my  uncle  and  cracking  together 
his  bony  little  fists.  "All  that  will  come  of  this  trick  is 
that  111  be  took  up  and  sent  to  jail.  I'm  a  good  mind 
to  go  to  the  judge  and  tell  him  how  I'm  persecuted 
and  hectored  and  see  if  he  won't  take  up  that  bill  o' 
sale." 

"I'll  kill  you  if  you  do — I'll  kill  anybody  else  who  blows 
on  me  and  my  plans.  Now,  Queen  of  Sheby,  remember 
that  this  is  my  champion  performance.  I  ain't  in  any 
frame  of  mind  to  be  trifled  with." 

He  went  to  the  oat-bin  and  brought  in  his  bottle. 

"You  need  to  be  teaed  up  a  little  so  that  you'll  have 
some  courage,  you  old  angleworm." 

After  the  two  of  them  had  swallowed  stiff  drinks  my 
uncle  turned  on  me. 

"  I  have  half  a  mind  to  dress  you  up  instead  of  Runnels, 
son.  Your  face  is  smooth  and  you've  got  nerve  enough 
to  act  the  thing  out  right." 

"I'll  not  turn  any  such  trick,"  I  said.  I  was  angry  in  a 
moment.  So  was  he. 

"You  will  if  I  tell  you  to." 

42 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"I  won't;  and  I'll  say  further  that  I  don't  think  much 
of  this  business,  anyway." 

"Nor  I — and  that's  two  against  one,"  declared  Runnels, 
the  tip  of  his  thin  nose  beginning  to  glow  as  if  new  courage 
had  hung  out  a  banner. 

Liquor  had  also  given  my  uncle's  temper  an  edge  of 
its  own;  he  cuffed  Runnels  until  that  lamenting  "lady's" 
hat  fell  off.  I  jumped  up  and  ran  away  into  the  fields, 
for  I  knew  that  Uncle  Deck  was  merely  warming  up  on 
"  Squealing  John ";  as  chief  mutineer,  I  was  ticketed  for 
the  real  bout.  I  lurked  about  in  the  pine  grove  till  after 
sunset.  Then  I  stole  back  into  the  village  with  all  the 
stealth  of  a  criminal. 


SHOOING  AWAY  A   SCAPEGOAT 

1  RECKON  it's  best  for  innocence  to  go  boldly  in  this 
world.  At  any  rate,  I  would  have  come  off  better 
that  night  if  I  had  not  lurked  and  prowled.  However,  I 
was  only  obeying  very  wise  dictates  of  prudence;  my  uncle 
had  been  sufficiently  savage  in  the  harness-room  when 
rebellion  was  merely  in  process  of  hatching.  To  meet 
him  after  Judge  Kingsley  had  exploded  the  bomb — and 
I  was  sure  that  I  would  be  revealed  in  the  matter — would 
be  like  getting  in  the  path  of  a  Bengal  tiger  with  snap- 
crackers  blistering  his  tail. 

I  wasn't  at  all  certain  what  I  would  do  after  I  found 
out  that  I  had  been  exposed  to  my  uncle's  fury;  first  of 
all,  so  I  felt,  it  was  essential  to  learn  what  had  developed 
in  the  horse  trade. 

So  I  stole  in  the  gloom  around  behind  the  buildings  of 
the  village  and  retraced  my  trail  up  through  the  judge's 
orchard.  While  I  was  still  some  distance  from  the  man- 
sion I  heard  considerable  of  a  hullabaloo  above  which 
rose  the  shrill  voice  of  "Squealing  John"  Runnels,  who 
was  issuing  warnings  about  "laying  a  whip  on  that  hoss." 
Then  there  was  a  racketing  and  a  splintering  and  down 
past  me  came  an  outfit  which  I  recognized.  The  horse 
was  certainly  the  brute  my  uncle  had  doctored  into  false 
shapeliness;  the  mane  was  dangling  in  shreds  where  the 
apple-tree  limbs  had  raked.  Runnels,  his  woman's  hat 
hanging  on  his  back,  was  kneeling  on  the  bottom  of  the 
wagon,  both  hands  full  of  false  hair  which  he  had  reaped 

44 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

from  the  horse's  tail  in  effort  to  check  the  animal;  he 
had  lost  the  reins  and  they  were  dragging  uselessly  on 
the  ground. 

Not  far  from  me  the  wagon  was  flailed  against  a  tree 
and  Mr.  Runnels  was  violently  dislodged;  but  I  judged 
that  he  was  not  injured  because,  after  rolling  over  and 
over  on  the  turf,  he  rose  and  ran  away  with  his  skirts 
gathered  around  his  waist. 

It  was  evident  that  my  uncle's  plot  had  failed  in- 
gloriously. 

I  could  understand  the  flash  of  fresh  spirit  in  that 
moribund  horse;  Runnels  had  shrieked  warnings  regard- 
ing a  whip ;  a  lash  laid  across  those  tingling  water-blisters 
must  have  made  that  poor  old  pelter  develop  a  hankering 
to  outfly  Pegasus.  He  disappeared  with  fragments  of  the 
thills  clattering  on  his  heels. 

Then  there  were  immediate  and  further  developments 
in  that  orchard.  I  thought  for  a  startled  moment  that 
it  was  enchanted  ground.  White  figures  began  to  pop 
up  here  and  there  and  came  flocking  to  me.  I  found  my- 
self surrounded  by  the  Skokums,  wearing  the  pillow- 
case masks  I  had  furnished. 

They  seemed  to  think  I  had  some  information  regard- 
ing the  runaway  or  was  concerned  in  it,  but  I  had  no  news 
to  give  out.  One  of  them  brought  the  old  felt  hat  with 
its  broken  feather. 

"I  didn't  know  there  was  any  woman  in  these  parts 
who  could  cuss  like  that  one  did  when  she  went  down 
through  the  orchard,"  said  one  of  the  Sortwell  boys.  "I 
reckon  that  detective  is  finding  mysteries  piling  in  on 
him  pretty  thick." 

"What  detective?"  I  asked. 

"The  one  that  Judge  Kingsley  has  been  hiding  in  his 
house.  That  detective  was  hid  in  a  closet  in  the  office 
to-day  when  the  judge  was  asking  questions  of  us." 

"How  do  you  know  he  was  there?" 

"Cigar  smoke  was  coming  out  of  the  cracks  in  the 

45 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

closet  door.  So  somebody  was  hid.  And  since  then  he 
has  been  outdoors  and  we  piped  him  off.  He  followed  you 
home.  Didn't  you  see  him?" 

I  did  remember  the  strange  man  who  had  been  loafing 
along  behind  me,  but  I  kept  my  own  counsel.  I  had  a 
more  important  matter  on  my  mind. 

"I  want  to  know  which  of  you  fellows  told  Judge 
Kingsley  to-day  that  I  am  ringleader  of  this  gang?" 

No  one  answered  me.  They  went  on  making  fun  of 
the  detective,  and  I'll  admit  that  it  seemed  to  me  that  he 
was  putting  up  a  poor  job  in  his  line.  My  reading  had 
given  me  a  rather  exalted  idea  of  detectives,  but  a  man 
who  smoked  behind  a  closet  door  while  eavesdropping, 
and  through  whose  identity  those  country  boys  saw 
straightway,  was  certainly  a  clumsy  operator.  Therefore, 
I  lost  interest  in  him  and  persisted  in  my  own  business 
with  them. 

"I'm  going  to  overlook  your  dirty  work  in  setting  old 
Bennie  on  to  me,"  I  said.  "You  may  have  done  it  only 
for  a  joke,  and  there's  no  telling  what  a  fool  will  do  when 
you  start  him  off.  But  there's  no  joke  in  blowing  on  me 
to  Judge  Kingsley — and  you  say  there  was  a  detective 
listening  behind  a  door.  Now  own  up1" 

Nobody  volunteered. 

"I  told  him  myself  that  I  was  in  it  at  first.  But  when 
I  said  I  was  out  of  it  he  made  it  plain  that  some  of  you 
are  still  putting  the  blame  on  me.  Whoever  has  said  any- 
thing of  that  kind  to  him  is  a  sneak." 

No  word  from  any  of  them. 

"And  the  fellow  who  won't  speak  up  to  me  now,  so  that 
we  can  settle  this  thing,  is  a  coward." 

There  was  no  such  thing  as  picking  out  a  guilty  face 
in  that  crowd;  they  were  hooded  with  those  pillow-slips. 
I  wasn't  sure  which  was  which;  I  couldn't  locate  even 
Ben  Pratt  in  the  gang,  and  he  was  the  special  chap  I  had 
in  mind  as  informer. 

"I  can  say  this,"  stated  one  of  the  boys,  "that  I  didn't 

46 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

mention  your  name  to  the  judge,  Ross.  So  there's  no 
chance  for  a  fight  between  you  and  me.  But  when  you 
come  to  twitting  about  the  throwing-down  business,  let 
me  remind  you  that  you  did  the  first  job  in  that  line; 
you  threw  us  all  down.  And  that  was  after  we  had  turned 
a  trick  that  saved  you  and  your  uncle  good  money." 

"But  what  the  rest  of  you  wanted  to  do  was  go  around 
in  the  night  and  raise  the  devil  in  this  town,  simply  for 
the  sake  of  mischief.  I  wouldn't  do  that,  and  I  told 
you  so." 

"But  how  about  a  case  where  we'd  be  protecting  our- 
selves against  somebody  who  was  doing  us  dirt?" 

"Nothing  like  that  has  been  put  up  to  me." 

"  It's  going  to  be  in  about  three  seconds.  You  organized 
this  society;  now  do  something  for  it.  We're  going  to 
coat  that  detective  with  molasses  and  feathers  and  ride 
him  out  of  the  village  on  a  rail.  We  call  on  you  to  boss 
the  job." 

"I  won't  do  it." 

"Then  join  in  with  us  and  help." 

"No!" 

"This  isn't  mischief — it's  tackling  an  enemy.  You 
haven't  got  any  good  excuse  for  throwing  us  down." 

"I've  got  an  excuse  that  suits  me.  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  to  travel  straight  in  this  town,  after  this.  I'm  going 
to  do  it.  I  have  my  own  good  reasons  for  doing  it." 

"Lost  your  courage,  hey?" 

"It  takes  more  courage  to  stand  up  here  and  say  what 
I'm  saying  than  to  lead  this  mob." 

"So  you  say,  but  that  doesn't  convince  us.  Go  home, 
then,  and  get  out  from  underfoot." 

It  came  to  me  all  of  a  sudden  and  with  sickening  force 
that  it  required  more  courage  to  go  home  and  face  my 
uncle  than  to  undertake  any  other  project  which  my 
mind  could  grasp  just  then. 

I  stood  stock-still  and  they  began  to  suspect  my  mo- 
tives in  sticking  around. 

47 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"You  won't  head  the  party,  you  won't  go  along  as  a 
member,  you  won't  get  out  of  the  way,"  growled  a  voice, 
and  I  recognized  Ben  Pratt.  "What  do  you  intend  to 
do — make  a  holler?" 

I  could  be  just  as  stiff  in  temper  as  any  of  that  Levant 
bunch. 

"A  good  deal  depends  on  what  you  devils  intend  to 
do,"  I  said. 

"You  may  as  well  know  at  the  start-off!  We  intend  to 
have  that  detective  out  of  Judge  Kingsley's  house!  If 
he  doesn't  come  out  when  we  call  him  we  shall  go  in  and 
get  him." 

"That's  a  prison  crime — entering  a  house  like  that,"  I 
warned  them.  "Also,  think  what  a  report  that  is  to  go 
out  from  Levant !  A  guest  of  our  leading  citizen  dragged 
from  a  private  residence  by  a  mob !  There's  a  sacredness 
about  a  home — " 

"What  book  did  you  get  that  out  of?"  asked  some  one, 
and  they  laughed. 

I  suppose  it  did  sound  mighty  top-lofty  and  unlike  any- 
thing else  that  ever  came  from  me.  But  I  was  thinking 
with  all  my  might  of  Celene  Kingsley  and  what  an  awful 
thing  it  would  be  to  have  those  young  hyenas  invade  that 
house  in  the  night-time.  You  can  say  what  you  want  to 
about  hoodlumism  in  the  city — it's  bad!  But  you've 
got  to  go  back  into  the  country  for  unadulterated  hellish- 
ness,  when  a  mob  really  gets  started.  Furthermore, 
nobody  is  especially  afraid  of  a  village  constable.  I  could 
foresee  dirty  doings  that  night  in  Levant.  I  had  seen 
one  mob  in  Levant  when  I  was  a  youngster;  they  tarred 
and  feathered  a  fanatical  evangelist,  and  he  died  of  fright. 

I  tried  to  think  up  something  in  the  way  of  argument 
and  I  stammered  about  local  pride  and  so  forth,  but  my 
talk  didn't  ring  true,  and  I  felt  it  and  they  knew  it. 
Personally,  I  didn't  care  a  hoot  about  that  clumsy  fool  of 
a  detective,  and  I  was  not  remarkably  fond  of  sneering 
Judge  Kingsley.  If  I  could  have  stepped  up  to  those 

48 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

boys  and  explained  my  love  and  my  hopes  and  my  fears 
for  Celene  Kingsley  I  might  have  made  some  impression 
on  them.  But  that  was  not  to  be  thought  of. 

While  I  talked  I  saw  them  crawling  toward  me,  spread- 
ing out,  two  by  two.  It  was  plain  enough — they  intended 
to  start  their  foray  by  making  me  a  captive  so  that  I 
could  not  interfere. 

Therefore,  I  made  hasty  resolution  and  turned  and  ran 
with  all  my  speed  toward  Judge  Kingsley's  house.  I 
wasn't  at  all  sure  just  what  I  intended  to  do,  but  my 
impulse  was  to  forewarn  the  household  so  that  Celene 
might  not  be  frightened.  The  Skokums  came  on  my 
heels  on  the  dead  jump.  But  I  had  a  good  lead  of  them 
when  I  came  around  the  corner  of  the  house. 

Then  a  man  tripped  me,  pounced  on  me,  and  sat  on  me ; 
I  was  a  submissive  captive,  for  the  breath  was  knocked 
out  of  me  when  I  fell.  The  instant  the  Skokums  appeared 
my  captor  began  to  shoot  off  two  automatic  revolvers. 
I  was  lying  on  my  back  and  saw  by  the  flashes  that  he 
was  shooting  into  the  air.  The  boys  had  been  chasing 
me  rather  than  intending  to  rush  the  house  at  that  time, 
and  they  broke  and  fled  in  all  directions,  scampering  in  a 
way  which  suggested  that  they  were  not  prepared  for 
artillery  defense  and  that  the  hostilities  were  over  for 
that  night. 

After  a  time  there  was  silence,  and  the  man  who  was 
sitting  on  me  rose  and  yanked  me  to  my  feet . 

He  was  a  stocky  man  with  a  big,  black  mustache,  and 
he  looked  savage. 

There  was  a  sound  of  drawing  bolts  and  Judge  Kingsley 
appeared  at  his  office  door. 

"You  have  the  right  one,  have  you,  officer?" 

"Sure  thing!  He  was  leading  the  rush — ahead  of  'em 
all.  This  is  the  chap  you  told  me  to  follow  in  the  after- 
noon." 

The  judge  came  down  the  steps  and  stared  into  my  face. 

"It's  the  right  one — the  ringleader,"  he  said. 

49 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  knew  that  she  was  listening  above.  She  must  be 
listening!  And  other  folks  were  flocking  outside  in  the 
street;  that  fusillade  had  been  a  signal  as  effective  as  a 
general  fire  alarm. 

"Look  here,"  I  cried,  full  of  panic,  seeing  the  position 
I  was  in,  suddenly  become  the  scapegoat  of  the  whole 
affair.  "I  have  done  nothing  wrong.  I  rushed  up  here 
to  warn  you — " 

"You  rushed  up,  all  right,"  declared  the  detective. 
"  Do  you  think  you  hicks  could  hold  a  mass-meeting  down 
in  that  orchard  and  fool  me  as  to  what  you  were  planning 
to  do?  I  was  ready  for  you.  What's  orders,  Judge?" 

"Take  him  to  the  lock-up!" 

God  of  the  innocent !  I '11  never  forget  how  that  sounded. 
It  was  as  if  somebody  had  hit  me  on  the  heart  with  a 
hammer.  There  is  some  sort  of  dignity  about  a  real 
prison!  But  that  little,  red,  wooden  coop  in  our  village 
where  an  occasional  drunk  was  cast  in  or  some  lousy  hobo 
harbored — it  had  always  seemed  to  me  and  to  others 
such  a  shameful  place — to  leave  such  a  badge  of  utter 
discredit  on  the  person  who  had  been  lodged  there ! 

"I'll  never  go  in  there!    I'll  die  first,"  I  wailed. 

I  was  telling  the  bitter  truth  as  I  felt  it. 

I  was  eager  to  die  in  my  tracks  rather  than  to  have  such 
a  foul  blot  on  my  name. 

The  next  instant  I  had  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling  in 
regard  to  that  lock-up.  In  bitter  fear,  in  almost  frenzy 
of  apprehension,  in  default  of  better  retreat,  I  was  quite 
ready  to  flee  to  that  loathsome  coop. 

For  I  heard  my  uncle  raving  in  the  street! 

I  never  remembered  his  words;  my  feelings  were  too 
much  stirred  just  then.  But  the  hideous  screech  of  rr^e 
in  his  tones  I'll  never  forget.  I  knew  he  had  found  out 
my  betrayal  of  him. 

"He  is  going  to  kill  me,"  I  told  the  detective.  "It's 
about  the  horse!" 

"Yes,  I  reckon  he  will  peel  you  if  he  gets  his  hands  on 

So 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

you,"  stated  the  man,  who  seemed  to  know  what  I  was 
referring  to.  My  uncle  was  threshing  his  way  through 
the  crowd  toward  me,  making  slow  progress  in  the  jam. 
The  detective  took  advantage  of  that  delay  and  rushed 
me  off,  with  Constable  Nute  swinging  his  key  and  leading 
the  way.  Before  I  was  fairly  in  my  right  senses  I  was  in 
the  lock-up  alone  and  my  two  defenders  were  on  guard 
outside  the  door. 

My  uncle  frothed  about  the  place  for  an  hour,  circling 
the  little  building  again  and  again,  plucking  at  bars  and 
clapboards  as  a  monkey  might  pick  at  a  gigantic  nut 
which  resisted  his  attempts  to  get  at  the  juicy  meat 
for  which  he  was  hungry. 

Never  had  I  thought  that  I  would  be  thankful  to  be  in 
jail  till  then! 

Furthermore,  my  hopes  were  sustaining  me.  I  was 
young  and  trustful,  and  I  was  sure  that  innocence  would 
be  victorious.  I  could  not  understand  how  anybody 
would  believe  that  I  was  guilty  when  morning  came  and 
I  could  explain  it  all.  And  I  resolved  to  make  some  of 
the  Skokums  speak  up  in  my  behalf  on  threat  of  exposing 
the  whole  gang. 

At  last  my  uncle  went  away,  staggering  and  hiccoughing 
curses — for  he  had  brought  his  bottle  with  him  and  had 
been  consulting  it  quite  often. 

I  fell  to  wondering  whether  my  innocence  would  stand 
me  in  good  stead,  providing  it  vindicated  me  and  secured 
my  release  from  the  lock-up?  The  lock-up  was  surely 
proving  a  sanctuary — and  my  uncle's  threats  had  been 
horrible  ones. 

Then  the  crowd  which  had  been  hanging  around  the 
place  with  a  sort  of  hope,  I  suppose,  that  my  uncle  would 
be  able  to  get  at  me,  went  away,  for  the  hour  was  late. 
Mr.  Detective  went,  too.  So  did  Constable  Nute,  who 
was  the  village  night-watch  and  had  his  rounds  to  make. 
They  considered  the  cage  a  secure  one,  I  suppose,  for  there 
were  big  bolts  on  the  door  and  iron  bars  on  the  windows. 

Si 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

I  sat  on  a  stool  and  mourned  my  lot  as  a  prisoner,  when 
I  was  not  dreading  my  release  to  be  a  victim  of  my  in- 
censed uncle.  A  good  many  times  I  had  watched  Bart 
Flanders  bring  a  trapped  rat  up  from  his  cellar  and  set  it 
free  in  the  village  square  for  the  entertainment  of  his 
terrier.  I  was  in  a  position  to  sympathize  with  trapped 
rats. 

In  the  silence  of  the  night  something  clicked  on  the 
glass  of  a  window  and  a  voice  outside  hailed  me  cau- 
tiously. My  first  thought  was  that  the  Skokums  had 
come  to  rescue  me,  and  I  was  not  especially  pleased,  for  I 
felt  that  they  would  be  impelled  more  by  the  spirit  of 
vandalism  than  by  any  love  for  me.  I  did  not  answer. 

Then  the  window-frame  grunted  and  squeaked  and  I 
saw  that  somebody  was  prying  with  a  chisel.  I  rose  from 
the  stool  and  saw  the  face  of  Dodovah  Vose. 

"I  take  it  that  it's  another  job  they  have  put  up  on 
you,  young  Sidney." 

"Yes,  it  is,  Mr.  Vose,"  I  cried,  and  I  began  to  whimper. 
I  couldn't  help  it.  He  spoke  as  if  he  understood,  as  if  he 
were  a  friend.  "I  was  trying  to  stop  their  devilishness, 
and  they — " 

"You  needn't  bother  about  going  into  details — not 
with  me,  young  Sidney.  I  have  been  watching  you 
lately.  You  have  been  a  good  boy.  I  know  you  haven't 
been  rampaging  round  town  nights.  No  matter  about 
telling  me  anything.  There's  no  time  to  listen.  Nute 
may  be  drifting  back  here  any  minute." 

He  was  working  with  his  chisel  while  he  was  talking. 

He  pried  a  couple  of  bars  out  of  the  rotten  wood.  He 
pushed  the  window  up. 

"Light  out  o'  there!"  he  commanded. 

"But  I  hate  to  run  away,  and — " 

"The  way  things  stand  now  in  the  village  you'll  be 
made  the  goat,"  he  insisted.  "And  if  you  get  clear  of  the 
gang  part  there's  your  uncle  to  reckon  with.  He  has 
been  stamping  around  the  tavern  and  telling  about  you. 

52 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  don't  blame  him  much.    What  in  sanup  did  you  betray 
own  folks  for?" 

I  couldn't  tell  him. 

"After  what  you  did  to  him  you  can't  expect  me  and 
others  to  say  nay  if  he  takes  it  out  of  your  hide.  Trigging 
own  folks  in  a  regular  hoss  dicker  comes  nearer  to  being 
a  crime  than  anything  the  judge  can  lay  against  you. 
So  you've  got  to  simplify  matters  by  getting  out  of  town. 
You  mustn't  stay  here  and  get  hurt,  son.  Climb,  I  tell 
ye!" 

So  I  climbed. 

He  led  me  down  into  a  lane  and  pushed  me  into  a  top 
buggy  whose  curtained  sides  hid  me  well.  He  crawled 
in  after  me  and  drove  off  at  a  good  clip. 

"I  have  written  that  letter  to  my  brother,"  he  said, 
after  a  time.  "Here  it  is."  He  put  it  into  my  hands. 
"How  much  money  have  you  got  about  you?" 

I  was  never  at  any  loss  in  those  days  as  to  my  exact 
financial  standing. 

"Three  dollars  and  sixty-four  cents,  sir." 

"Here  is  ten  more.  You  must  remember  to  pay  it 
back.  It  will  take  you  to  the  city  and  give  you  a  little 
extra  to  come  and  go  on.  I  have  backed  that  letter  to 
my  brother  with  full  address  and  directions  how  to  get 
to  the  Trident  Wrecking  Company.  Mind  your  eye,  keep 
your  money  deep  in  your  pocket,  and  go  straight." 

I  realized  that  we  were  on  the  way  to  the  railroad 
station  at  Levant  Lower  Corners. 

"I'll  do  what  I  can  to  stand  up  for  you  in  the  current 
talk  that  will  be  made,  young  Sidney,"  said  Landlord 
Vose.  "I  won't  say  where  you  have  gone,  and  you  can 
bet  that  I  won't  give  it  out  how  I  helped  you  to  go  there. 
But  I  can  tell  folks  how  you  have  been  sitting  evenings 
with  me  instead  of  cutting  up  snigdom.  I'll  help  your 
name  what  I  can." 

"I  have  been  trying  to  get  my  tongue  loose  so  as  to 
thank—" 

53 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"  Don't  go  to  spoiling  a  good  thing  at  the  last  minute," 
he  snapped.  "Come  back  and  thank  me  when  we  both 
are  sure  that  this  jail-robbing  was  the  best  thing  that 
could  be  done  under  the  circumstances.  I  had  only  short 
notice  and  I  took  a  chance  that  it  was  the  right  thing 
to  do." 

So,  after  a  time,  we  came  to  the  railroad  station,  and 
he  left  me.  I  sneaked  in  the  shadows  till  the  night  train 
came  along. 

After  this  fashion  I  left  Levant.  Looking  ahead  or 
looking  behind,  I  did  not  feel  especially  joyous. 


VI 

HAVING  TO  DO  WITH  JODREY  VOSE?S  MAKING   OP  A  DIVER 

1SAT  up  in  the  smoking-car  all  night,  straight  as  a  cob, 
making  myself  as  small  as  I  could  on  one  of  the  side 
seats  nearest  the  door.  I  was  not  used  to  riding  on  a 
railroad  train.  At  every  stop,  when  men  came  in  and 
looked  at  me  in  passing,  my  heart  jumped.  Things  had 
been  happening  pretty  fast  in  my  case.  In  the  upheaval 
of  my  feelings,  I  was  not  exactly  sure  just  what  special 
crime  I  had  committed.  I  merely  knew  that  I  felt  like 
a  combination  of  coward,  renegade,  and  malefactor. 

The  idea  which  stuck  most  painfully  in  my  crop  was 
the  certain  knowledge  of  what  everybody  in  Levant  would 
be  saying — "He  had  to  skip  the  town!" 

That's  a  mighty  mean  tag  to  be  tied  to  a  chap  when 
it's  tied  on  by  a  country  community;  it  never  comes  off. 
Even  if  he  makes  good  in  fine  shape  some  old  blatherskite 
is  always  ready  to  shift  his  chaw  and  drool,  "  Maybe  he's 
all  right  now — but  ye  have  to  remember  that  he  had  to 
skip  the  town!" 

I  had  run  away! 

However,  Ase  Jepson  let  drop  a  remark  once  which 
sounded  pretty  good  to  me:  "I'd  never  run  from  a  bear- 
fight,  because  if  you  lick  the  bear  there's  the  pelt,  the 
steak,  the  oil,  and  the  reppytation.  But  who  in  blazes 
ever  got  any  sensible  satisfaction  out  of  sticking  to  the 
job  and  licking  a  nestful  of  hornets?" 

I  got  a  little  satisfaction  out  of  thinking  that  I  had 
run  away  from  hornets,  even  if  they  would  be  sure  to  call 
me  coward  behind  my  back. 

5  55 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

But  what  I  knew  of  the  world  outside  my  home  town 
could  have  been  put  in  the  eye  of  a  mosquito  without 
making  the  insect  blink.  I  felt  as  helpless  as  a  wooden 
shingle  latching  a  furnace  door  in  tophet.  I  had  never 
seen  Jodrey  Vose.  Either  I  had  dreamed  it  or  had  heard 
that  he  was  considered  a  pretty  hard  ticket  in  his  early 
days.  As  a  diver,  a  man  who  passed  much  of  his  time 
under  water  in  the  mysteries  of  the  sea,  he  seemed  to 
me  like  something  unreal.  I  studied  the  superscription 
on  the  letter  and  felt  as  if  I  were  carrying  a  line  of  intro- 
duction to  a  bullfrog. 

And  so  I  went  bumping  on  toward  somewhere,  my 
thoughts  heavy  and  my  possessions  mighty  light;  I 
hadn't  even  a  clean  handkerchief. 

If  I  had  not  so  many  bigger  matters  to  hurry  on  to  in 
this  tale,  I'd  like  to  describe  how  I  was  all  of  two  days 
locating  the  Trident  Wrecking  Company  and  Jodrey 
Vose,  after  I  arrived  in  the  city.  The  folks  in  Levant 
always  seemed  to  think  I  was  a  cheeky  youngster,  and  I 
guess  I  was,  to  a  certain  extent.  I  had  plenty  of  temper 
and  when  I  wanted  a  thing  I  always  had  to  go  and  get 
it — it  wasn't  handed  to  me.  But  in  that  big  city  I  was 
more  meeching  than  a  scared  pup  in  a  boiler-factory. 

I  had  no  idea  how  large  a  real  city  was,  anyway.  Fur- 
thermore, all  of  a  sudden,  I  found  myself  becoming  very 
crafty,  according  to  my  own  reckoning.  I  had  decided 
that  I  was  a  fugitive  from  justice  and  that  every  police- 
man was  on  the  watch  for  me.  Therefore  I  avoided 
policemen,  turning  corners  whenever  I  saw  brass  buttons. 
As  I  looked  on  everybody  else  in  the  hurrying  multitude 
as  a  sharper,  on  the  hunt  for  country  picking,  that  left 
me  without  anybody  to  question.  I  had  my  nose  in  the 
air  and  must  have  sniffed  the  water-front  after  a  time. 
At  any  rate,  I  found  myself  down  there,  dodging  drays, 
tramping  dirty  alleys  and  as  completely  lost  as  a  bug  in 
a  brush-pile. 

I  lived  on  chestnuts  because  I  found  men  selling  them 

56 


WHERE   YOUR  TREASURE   IS 

on  the  street.  I  drank  water  from  horse-fountains. 
After  I  walked  all  day  and  most  of  the  night,  and  napped 
for  a  while,  standing  up  against  a  building  in  a  dark 
corner,  I  began  to  feel  more  or  less  like  a  horse;  I  had 
eaten  so  much  dry  fodder  and  had  gulped  so  much  water  ? 
There  were  many  adventures,  of  course,  but  I  have 
already  stated  why  I  may  not  deal  with  them. 

Staggering  from  weariness,  I  fairly  bumped,  at  last, 
into  a  door  which  was  labeled:  "Trident  Wrecking 
Company,  Anson  C.  Doughty,  General  Manager."  This 
was  no  accident.  I  reckon  I  had  tramped  all  the  water- 
front and  had  read  all  the  signs  except  that  one. 

I  went  into  the  outer  office,  holding  my  letter  by  one 
corner. 

Nobody  paid  any  attention  to  me  for  half  an  hour. 
There  were  men  writing  in  big  books  behind  a  counter, 
and  finally  I  pushed  the  letter  over  to  one  of  them  who 
had  stopped  to  light  a  cigar.  He  pushed  it  back. 

"Not  here,"  he  said.     "Doesn't  come  here." 

"But  where  will  I  find  him?" 

"Don't  know.  He's  a  diver.  They  don't  do  their 
diving  here  in  the  office." 

There  was  not  a  place  in  that  office  where  I  could  sit 
and  I  was  so  tired  I  was  sick.  The  man  turned  his  back 
on  me  and  I  did  not  dare  to  ask  him  any  more  questions. 
I  backed  away  from  the  counter  and  stood  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor,  swaying  and  blinking.  I  reckon  I  must  have 
looked  like  a  down-and-out  bum.  At  any  rate,  when  a 
big  man  came  showing  a  caller  out  of  a  door  labeled 
"General  Manager,  Private,"  he  bumped  against  me 
when  I  did  not  get  out  of  the  road  and  almost  knocked 
me  down. 

I  suppose  it  was  due  to  my  state  of  mind  and  body — 
but  till  that  moment  I  had  never  felt  what  ugly,  vicious 
hatred — desire  to  kill — meant.  The  feeling  came  up  in 
me  so  suddenly  that  I  was  frightened. 

The  big  man  went  right  on  with  his  friend  and  took  no 

57 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

notice  of  me.  He  had  hairy  hands  which  he  flourished  as 
he  talked,  and  the  coat  of  his  brown  suit  had  long  tails 
which  ended  in  a  sort  of  scallop  at  his  knees,  behind;  it 
came  to  me  in  the  flush  of  my  boiling  hatred  that  he 
looked  like  a  fat  cockroach.  And  that  bump  dealt  to  me 
when  I  was  so  miserable,  that  suggestion  of  the  cockroach 
which  always  popped  up  at  me  as  long  as  I  knew  him, 
later  made  for  another  decisive  turning-point  in  my  life. 
Again  I  am  calling  attention  to  the  fact  that  matters 
which  I  did  not  reckon  on  as  to  amounting  to  much  at 
the  moment  have  been  my  mile-stones.  As  I  look  back 
I  recognize  the  mile-stones,  though  I  could  not  distin- 
guish them  at  the  time.  For  instance,  if  you  keep  on 
with  me  far  enough,  I  shall  tell  you  how  an  affair  which 
counted,  perhaps,  as  the  biggest  crisis  in  my  life  was 
dominated  by  a  plain,  ordinary  monkey  with  an  artificial 
tail. 

I  followed  after  that  big  man  with  a  raging  desire  to 
kick  him  under  the  sleek  tails  of  that  coat — to  pound  my 
fists  into  his  fat  back.  I  might  have  given  quite  an 
account  of  myself,  at  that,  for  I  was  full  grown  at  twenty 
and  as  hard  as  hickory. 

"As  I  say,"  I  heard  before  he  slammed  the  door  behind 
him,  "you  better  come  along  with  me  down  to  Trull 
wharf  and  talk  to  Vose  himself.  He  can  tell  you — " 

I  gathered  my  wits  and  chased  along  behind.  The  two 
of  them  paid  as  little  attention  to  me  as  they  would  to  a 
prowling  cat.  But  if  they  were  on  the  way  to  talk  to 
"Vose  himself,"  that  surely  was  my  opportunity. 

It  was  some  distance  and  by  way  of  devious  alleys, 
but  we  came  at  last  to  where  a  lighter  was  tied  beside 
a  wharf. 

There  was  a  derrick  and  the  scow  was  loaded  with  blocks 
of  granite.  A  man  was  slowly  and  ceaselessly  turning 
the  wheel  of  a  queer-looking  machine,  another  was  care- 
fully handling  hose  which  passed  over  the  side  of  the  lighter 
and  down  into  the  water,  and  still  another  was  tending 

58 


WHERE   YOUR    TREASURE    IS 

ropes.  It  did  not  occur  to  me  at  first  what  this  activity 
indicated. 

But  when  the  big  man  called  out,  "Is  Vose  about  due 
to  come  up?"  I  understood  at  once  and  was  mightily 
interested. 

I  looked  down  into  the  dock  and  saw  water  like  liquid 
muck,  filled  with  floating  refuse,  and  a  good  deal  of  the 
glamour  of  a  diver's  life  departed  from  my  imagination. 
Somehow  I  had  thought  that  Jodrey  Vose  spent  his  days 
in  blue  depths  of  pure  ocean  water,  looking  around  at 
strange  fishes  and  exploring  mysterious  caves.  That  he 
was  obliged  to  go  down  into  any  such  mess  as  that  and 
work  on  blocks  of  stones  with  his  two  hands  was  a  de- 
pressing discovery. 

After  a  time  there  was  a  bubbling  of  the  turbid  water 
close  beside  the  lighter,  and  for  the  first  time  in  my  life 
I  saw  a  diver's  helmet  emerge;  the  goggling  eye-plates, 
the  grotesque  excrescences,  the  sprouting  antennas  of  the 
hose  lines,  the  venomous  hissing  of  the  air  from  the 
vents — it  all  seemed  uncanny,  and  made  me  shiver. 

Men  reached  down  to  help  him  up  the  ladder,  and  when 
he  was  on  deck  in  full  view,  scuffing  his  huge,  weighted 
shoes,  a  balloon-like  creature,  as  shapeless  as  the  dough- 
nut men  my  mother  used  to  cut  for  me  when  she  was  in 
good  humor  on  frying-day,  I  was  sure  I  had  never  seen 
so  curious  a  sight. 

After  he  sat  down  they  twisted  off  the  helmet,  and  the 
fat  man,  whom  I  reckoned  must  be  Manager  Anson  C. 
Doughty,  escorted  the  other  man  aboard  the  lighter  and 
the  three  started  a  conversation  which  I  could  not  hear. 

I  knew  the  diver  for  Jodrey  Vose  because  I  had  seen  his 
picture  at  the  tavern. 

The  business,  whatever  it  was,  did  not  take  much  time 
and  the  manager  and  the  other  man  went  away.  Helpers 
began  to  shuck  the  diver  from  his  suit;  it  was  nearing 
sundown  and  work  for  the  day  was  over,  it  seemed. 
When  he  was  free  from  the  bulk  of  the  stuff  and  was 

59 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

starting  for  the  cabin  of  the  lighter  I  went  to  him  and 
gave  him  the  letter. 

"From  Dod,  hey?"    Then  he  told  me  to  follow  him. 

I  looked  at  him  while  he  read  the  letter  by  the  light  of  a 
bracket  lamp.  He  was  a  wiry  man  with  a  twist  of  grizzled 
chin-beard.  I  was  much  comforted  when  he  looked  up 
from  the  letter  and  grinned. 

"Ben  Sidney's  boy!  Well,  your  father  was  the  only 
critter  on  two  legs  in  Levant,  in  the  old  days,  who  could 
stand  in  a  barrel,  like  I  could,  and  jump  out  without 
touching  the  sides.  You  look  as  if  you  have  some  of  his 
spryness  and  grit!" 

"I  hope  so,  sir.  I  have  always  worked  at  what  has 
come  to  my  hands  to  do." 

"Dod  says  business  is  a  mite  slow  in  Levant  and  that 
you  want  a  job." 

"Yes,  sir." 

Now  there  was  gratitude  in  me  as  well  as  comfort;  it 
was  evident  that  Dodovah  Vose  had  not  written  that  I 
was  a  runaway. 

The  diver  laid  down  the  letter  and  went  fumbling  for  his 
street  clothes  in  a  closet. 

"At  any  rate,  you  can  come  up  to  my  boarding-place 
with  me  for  the  night  and  we'll  talk  it  all  over,"  he  said, 
in  a  very  kind  way.  "If  you  had  only  made  yourself 
known  a  few  minutes  ago  I  could  have  introduced  you  to 
Manager  Anson  C.  Doughty.  But  to-morrow  will  do 
as  well." 

I  did  not  dare  to  offer  comment.  I  wondered  what 
there  was  about  Anson  C.  Doughty  to  keep  my  hatred 
of  him  so  stirred. 

"He  takes  my  recommendations  as  to  my  helpers," 
said  Vose.  "There  is  one  thing  a  diver  has  to  be  sure 
about — that's  picking  his  helpers.  We'll  talk  it  over,  I 
say.  If  I  find  there's  considerable  of  Ben  Sidney  in  you, 
I  reckon  we  can  make  a  go  of  it.  Have  you  a  hankering 
to  learn  the  business,  itself?" 

6® 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  blossomed  under  the  warmth  of  this  kindness.  I  was 
full  of  words  by  that  time.  I  hadn't  opened  my  mouth 
to  talk  for  two  days.  I  told  him  about  my  evenings  in 
that  tavern,  my  poring  over  his  curios,  my  ambitions, 
my  dreams  and  hopes  after  hearing  the  stories  his  brother 
had  to  tell  me. 

When  he  had  finished  dressing  he  clapped  me  on  the 
shoulder. 

"Oh,  I  calculate  you're  going  to  do,"  he  told  me. 
"Don't  get  your  expectations  too  high.  I  have  given  up 
all  the  deep  work — too  old.  Five  or  six  years  steady  at 
deep  work  finishes  a  man.  I  have  nursed  myself  along. 
Wharf  work — fifteen  to  thirty  feet — that's  my  limit 
these  days.  But  I  like  your  spirit,  son.  Can't  find  boys 
in  the  city  like  that !  I  should  say  that  you've  got  the  real 
hankering.  Cigarettes,  ever?" 

' '  No,  sir !    No  tobacco. ' ' 

"No  cider  jamborees?  No  express  packages  from  the 
city?" 

"No,  Mr.  Vose." 

"Good!  I  reckon  I'll  keep  the  old  town  of  Levant  on 
the  map  in  the  diving  line.  I  know  the  game,  my  boy. 
And  I  know  how  to  teach  it  to  the  right  kind  of  a  pupil." 

"I'm  sure  you  do,  Mr.  Vose." 

"  So  we'll  talk  it  all  over  this  evening — and  while  we're 
about  it,  if  you  don't  call  me  Captain  Vose  down  this 
way  they'll  think  you  don't  know  me  very  well." 

I  blushed,  then  I  followed  him  out  and  away. 

Before  I  tumbled  into  bed  that  night  we  had  settled 
upon  the  future  so  far  as  our  words  to  each  other  went; 
the  bargain  only  needed  the  ratification  of  Anson  C. 
Doughty — and  that  was  secured  next  morning.  I  had 
expected  that  sleep  would  soothe  my  nerves  and  remove 
my  ugly  grouch  in  the  case  of  that  gentleman.  However, 
there  must  have  been  something  instinctive  in  my  dislike 
for  him;  he  looked  me  up  and  down  and  caught  my 
scowl. 

61 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"You  seem  to  have  picked  out  a  pretty  surly  up- 
country  steer,  Vose!  However,  put  him  to  work  if  you 
like  that  kind!" 

So  to  work  I  went. 

I  cleaned  diving-suits  and  thus  became  familiar  with 
the  parts  and  the  mechanism.  I  soaked  out  mud-caked 
ropes,  I  tended  lines  and  learned  signals,  and  was  al- 
ways busy  with  a  hundred  other  odd  jobs  as  a  satellite 
of  Diver  Vose.  He  used  me  well  enough,  though  he 
was  never  as  warm  toward  me  as  he  was  at  our  first 
meeting.  » 

After  some  weeks  I  lost  my  fear  that  I  would  be  fol- 
lowed and  taken  back  to  Levant.  I  was  not  sure  whether 
I  felt  more  relief  than  rancor.  To  be  considered  as  not 
worth  chasing,  to  know  they  were  saying  "Good  riddance !" 
behind  my  back,  gave  me  thoughts  which  hurt  a  certain 
kind  of  pride. 

I  was  afraid  of  the  city  and  I  went  nowhere  except  to 
my  work  and  to  my  boarding-place.  So  there  was  an 
epoch  in  my  life  which  was  bare  of  adventure  until  Diver 
Vose  sent  me  down  for  the  first  time. 

He  had  given  me  a  fine  course  of  sprouts  previously, 
of  course. 

But  in  spite  of  all  that  the  first  sensations  nigh  para- 
lyzed me.  I  reached  bottom  and  wallowed  around  without 
the  least  thought  or  remembrance  regarding  what  I  had 
been  told  to  do.  A  freight-train  seemed  to  be  roaring 
around  inside  my  helmet  and  I  was  gasping  like  a  dying 
skate-fish. 

Then  in  scuffing  around  in  a  sort  of  panic,  taking  no 
care  of  what  I  was  about,  I  hooked  my  shoe  onto  some- 
thing and  began  to  yank  and  thresh  around  in  a  perfect 
frenzy.  The  result  was  that  I  pulled  the  shoe  off  and  my 
lightened  foot  was  snapped  above  my  head  in  a  finer 
spread-eagle  than  any  acrobatic  dancer  ever  pulled  off. 
To  drag  that  foot  down  was  beyond  my  powers,  and  I 
tripped  and  went  onto  my  back.  Being  up-ended  is  a 

62 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

diver's  chief  peril,  because  the  air  bellies  up  into  the  legs 
of  the  dress  and  leaves  scant  supply  in  the  helmet. 

In  that  crisis  there  was  one  idea  which  stuck  to  me: 
I  must  get  that  lost  shoe ! 

And  I  did  get  it.  I  groped  and  rolled  and  struggled  and 
pulled  until  I  did  get  it.  A  half-dozen  times  in  my  efforts 
I  felt  them  trying  to  haul  me  up.  I  suppose  I  must  have 
given  signals  telling  them  to  quit  that.  I  fought  them  as 
best  I  could,  anyway,  until  I  had  recovered  the  shoe; 
then  I  yanked  for  a  lift  and  went  up. 

Captain  Vose  was  standing  in  front  of  me  with  the 
helmet  in  his  hands  when  I  had  recovered  my  wits  enough 
to  notice  anybody. 

"Been  dancing  a  jig?"  he  inquired,  caustically. 

I  shook  my  head,  for  I  was  not  able  to  utter  words. 

"Which  did  you  lose  first  down  there,  your  nerve  or 
that  shoe?" 

When  I  hesitated,  he  snapped,  "Give  me  the  truth, 
now,  or  we  sha'n't  get  along  after  this!" 

"My  nerve  1"  I  told  him. 

"So  I  knew — for  I  lashed  on  that  shoe  with  my  own 
hands.  Very  well !  What  good  are  you  as  a  diver  without 
your  wits  or  your  nerve?" 

"No  good,  sir." 

"You  can  buy  an  eighteen-pound  shoe  at  any  equip- 
ment loft.  But  how  about  buying  nerve?" 

"I  reckon  it  can't  be  bought,  sir,"  I  confessed. 

"Still,  you  were  almighty  particular,"  he  sneered,  "to 
bring  back  that  shoe  with  you  even  if  you  didn't  bring 
your  nerve.  Left  your  nerve  on  the  bottom,  eh?" 

He  was  mighty  nasty  in  his  tone  and  his  manner,  and 
the  men  standing  around  were  grinning.  Perhaps  even 
all  that  would  not  have  put  grit  back  into  me,  for  I  was 
dizzy  and  scared  and  was  owning  up  to  myself  that  I  was 
better  fitted  for  dry  ground  than  a  wet  sea-bottom.  But 
just  then  Anson  C.  Doughty  bellowed  from  the  wharf: 

"Say,  look  here,  Vose,  let  that  coward  go  back  up- 

63 


country  to  his  steers!    We  have  no  time  to  fool  away  on 
greenhorns." 

"If  I  did  leave  my  nerve  on  the  bottom  I'm  going 
back  after  it,  and  I'm  going  right  now!"  I  told  the  diver. 
I  was  holding  the  ^hoe  and  I  dropped  it  on  deck  and 
shoved  my  foot  into  it.  Captain  Vose  kneeled  and  began 
to  lash  it. 

"What  are  you  doing,  there?"  demanded  the  manager. 

"Making  a  diver,"  stated  my  teacher,  calmly. 

"I'm  paying  you  fifty  dollars  a  day  to  do  what  I  tell 
you  to  do,  Vose." 

"That's  right,  sir!"  The  captain  kept  right  on  with 
the  lashings.  "There's  a  contract  between  you  and  this 
young  man  which  tells  me  to  teach  him  how  to  be  a 
diver,  if  he  shows  the  capacity." 

"He  hasn't  shown  it." 

"He  is  going  to  in  about  five  minutes,  sir." 

He  picked  up  the  helmet  and  bent  over  me. 

"I  had  a  reason  for  twitting  you  about  that  shoe,"  he 
said,  in  my  ear.  "You  showed  what  was  in  you  by  bring- 
ing it  back.  If  you  hadn't  brought  it  back  I  would  have 
stripped  this  suit  off  you  and  sent  you  hipering!  You've 
got  it  in  you!  You're  all  right!  Now  go  down,  son,  and 
set  that  chain  where  I  told  you  to  set  it.  The  first  scare 
is  the  vaccination  for  this  kind  of  work.  You're  in  a  way 
to  be  immune  from  now  on!" 

The  last  sound  I  heard  was  the  snarl  of  Anson  C. 
Doughty.  That  sound  helped  me  to  go  to  my  job  that 
day.  I  went  down  and  did  what  was  required  of  me, 
and,  as  I  worked  below  there  and  became  convinced  that 
there  was  nothing  to  harm  me  if  I  kept  my  head,  I  found 
my  nerve,  I  reckon,  for  good  and  all,  in  the  diving  business. 

And  now  that  this  story  seems  to  be  settled  into  a  rut  of 
adventure  in  my  chosen  line  of  work,  hold  breath  with 
me  and  prepare  for  a  couple  of  most  "  jeeroosly  jounces," 
as  old  Wagner  Bangs  used  to  term  his  occasional  falls 
from  his  state  of  natural  grace. 

64 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

First,  I  leap  as  nimbly  as  I  can  over  three  years 
and  a  half  of  hard  work,  the  story  of  which  would 
hold  as  little  interest  as  the  biography  of  a  mud-clam. 
I  slipped  and  slid  and  dug  in  slime,  I  shagged  granite 
blocks  and  dragged  chains,  I  pried  into  wrecks  and  had 
my  whack  at  fumbling  in  the  watery  shadows  for  the 
drowned — pitiful  bundles  floating  as  if  they  were  at- 
tempting posthumous  gymnastics,  head  down  and  fingers 
trying  to  touch  toes. 

I  did  "deep  work"  on  ticklish  jobs. 

So  I  came  into  the  fifty-dollar-a-day  class  of  workers, 
to  the  grim  content  of  my  mentor. 

I  have  just  remarked  that  the  snarl  of  Anson  C.  Doughty 
sent  me  in  earnest  to  my  first  job.  Also,  just  as  suddenly, 
that  snarl  pried  me  loose  from  my  job. 

I  wish  I  did  not  have  to  confess  what  I  have  to  say  now. 
I  come  to  jounce  number  two! 

I  have  spoken  a  ways  back  of  mile-stones  in  my  life 
and  suggested  that  Anson  C.  Doughty  was  connected 
with  one. 

I  wish  I  could  give  a  real,  compelling,  manly  reason 
why  I  tossed  my  hopes  and  my  prospects  so  wildly  into 
the  air  all  of  a  sudden.  I  have  spoken  of  my  ready 
temper — but  that's  no  reason. 

In  fifteen  seconds  I  shifted  the  life  I  was  living  as  com- 
pletely as  a  derailing-switch  shoots  a  runaway  engine  off 
the  main  line. 

The  borers  of  that  mysterious  hatred  for  Anson  C. 
Doughty  must  have  been  burrowing  in  me  all  the  time, 
even  as  those  little  teredinoid  bivalves  we  call  ship- 
worms  gnaw  into  submerged  piles  with  the  edges  of  their 
shells.  I  was  full  of  burrows  and  went  to  pieces  all  of  a 
sudden. 

For  I  came  up  one  day  out  of  thirty  fathoms — and 
that's  man's  work — and  Doughty  was  giving  me  green 
help  out  of  his  general  meanness — and  my  head  was  far 
from  steady;  in  addition  he  gave  me  his  snarl  for  the 

65 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

last  time,  instead  of  snarling  at  his  infernal  dubs  who 
were  risking  my  life. 

I  stepped  on  his  foot  with  a  shoe  that  was  loaded  with 
twenty  pounds  of  lead — and  that's  some  anchor! — I 
walloped  him  into  insensibility  with  the  end  of  a  rubber 
hose.  Then  I  resigned  informally,  while  he  lay  on  the 
deck  of  the  lighter,  grunting  back  to  life  again. 

Nobody  stopped  me  when  I  said  I  was  going  and  an- 
nounced that  it  would  be  dangerous  to  get  in  my  way. 

They  stood  back  while  I  shifted  my  clothes — and  I 
got  away  with  my  diving  equipment,  even!  It  was  the 
newest  thing  out  for  those  days  and  the  going  styles  of 
gear,  and  I  had  paid  good  money  for  it. 

I  say  again,  I  wish  I  had  a  more  cogent  reason  to  give 
for  throwing  up  my  work.  But  I'm  giving  the  truth  of 
the  matter.  I  left  just  that  way.  I  knew  that  Anson  C. 
Doughty  would  have  me  put  in  jail  if  he  could  catch  me. 
I  knew  that  I  couldn't  do  any  more  diving,  for  divers  are 
marked  men  and  are  easily  located.  It  was  up  to  me  to 
go  and  hide;  so  I  went  and  hid. 


VII 

THE    PSYCHOLOGY   OF   A   PLUG-HAT 

I  HAD  been  about  a  bit  during  three  years  and  a  half. 
I  own  up  frankly  that  I  had  found  out  that  I  had 
more  or  less  of  a  cheap  streak  in  me.  I'm  not  disguising 
it  wholly  by  the  name  of  curiosity;  though,  of  course, 
a  country  fellow  has  a  keen  hankering  to  look  in  on  some 
of  the  sights  of  the  big  city. 

When  we  boys  up  in  Levant  used  to  hand  around  among 
ourselves  by  stealth  some  of  the  flashy  papers,  I  didn't 
believe  there  were  such  things  as  I  read  in  print  and  saw 
in  pictures.  After  some  of  my  sporty  associates  of  the 
Trident  workers  began  to  take  me  around  with  them 
evenings  I  kept  perfectly  still  about  my  earlier  disbeliefs, 
and  my  cheap  streak  began  to  talk  up  to  me.  Some- 
body came  distributing  free  admission  cards  to  concerts, 
managed  by  religious  and  fraternal  bodies — but  I  pre- 
ferred to  pay  money  at  the  door  of  a  burlesque  theater. 
I  liked  to  go  scouting  in  dance-halls,  and  I  haunted  low 
resorts  to  hear  what  I  could  hear  and  see  what  I  could  see. 

We  went  boldly,  for  we  were  husky  youths.  As  for 
myself,  I  had  licked  the  boys  of  Levant  at  every  oppor- 
tunity— and  my  Sidney  temper  afforded  me  opportuni- 
ties aplenty.  I  was  never  afraid  when  I  went  about 
alone,  either.  I  had  a  rather  quiet  way  of  minding  my 
own  business  and  impressing  it  on  the  other  fellow  that 
he'd  better  mind  his. 

So,  it  may  be  guessed,  most  of  my  wanderings  had  been 
done  in  the  lower  quarters  of  the  city. 

That's  where  I  went  to  hide.  And  I  had  knowledge 

67 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

enough  of  the  locality  to  hide  myself  effectually  and 
keep  hidden. 

I  did  get  in  touch  with  one  of  the  fellows  who  had  been 
around  a  great  deal  with  me  and  whom  I  trusted — for 
he  had  no  special  use  for  Anson  C.  Doughty. 

Anson  C.  Doughty  was  out  of  doors  once  more,  after 
spending  a  week  of  retirement  in  the  company  of  a  few 
busy  little  leeches,  and,  as  to  eyes  and  nose,  he  was  not 
looking  so  very  badly  on  the  outside,  but  was  evidently 
having  a  great  amount  of  trouble  with  a  volcano  raging 
within,  so  my  informant  told  me.  Mr.  Doughty  was  pro- 
claiming that  he  proposed  to  catch  me  so  that  he  could 
make  an  example  for  the  sake  of  discipline  in  his  crews 
in  the  future;  but  according  to  the  program  he  had 
promulgated,  he  proposed  to  cut  me  up  with  a  meat- 
chopper before  turning  me  over  to  the  law.  So  I  decided 
to  keep  under  cover  for  an  indefinite  period. 

Then  I  sent  word  to  Captain  Jodrey  Vose  and  had  him 
call  on  me  in  my  castle,  because  I  did  not  want  him  to 
think  that  he  had  wasted  all  his  efforts  when  he  had  made 
me  a  diver. 

However,  the  captain  did  seem  to  think  so.  He  frankly 
said  so. 

"You'll  never  get  another  job  diving  on  the  Atlantic 
coast,"  he  told  me.  "In  the  first  place,  you  won't  dare 
to  show  up  as  a  diver  where  Anson  C.  Doughty  can  grab 
you.  In  the  next  place,  Anson  C.  Doughty  has  posted 
you  with  all  the  wrecking  companies  as  being  as  dan- 
gerous as  an  Asiatic  tiger  with  lighted  kerosene  on  his 
tail.  Now  tell  me  what  made  you  do  it." 

I  told  him. 

He  looked  at  me  with  his  eyes  squizzled  up  and  a  frown 
on  his  forehead. 

"I'm  getting  along  in  years  and  I'm  probably  losing 
my  mind  to  some  extent,"  he  said,  "but  I'll  be  cussed  if 
I  believe  I've  got  entire  softening  of  the  brain.  It  must 
be  that  I'm  deaf  and  can't  understand — because  I  don't 

68 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

get  the  least  idea  of  why  you  did  it  to  him.  Tell  it 
over." 

I  told  him  again. 

"Yes,  I  must  have  softening  of  the  brain,"  he  grunted. 
"It's  all  a  riddle-come-ree  to  me!" 

"It  is  the  same  to  me — and  that's  why  I  can't  explain," 
I  told  him,  frankly.  "I  hung  onto  myself  all  that  time, 
wanting  to  do  it,  and  then  I  let  go  and  did  it!" 

"About  as  you  went  to  cutting  up  in  Levant  before 
you  skipped  out,"  he  snapped. 

Up  to  that  time,  not  by  word  or  look  had  he  let  me  know 
that  he  had  any  knowledge  of  why  I  had  left  my  home 
town. 

"  Dod  explained  it  to  me  in  the  letter  he  sent  with  you. 
But  he  had  excuses  to  give." 

I  had  to  admire  Captain  Vose's  ability  to  keep  his 
thoughts  to  himself,  as  I  remembered  the  placid  counte- 
nance he  showed  to  me  when  he  had  read  that  letter. 

"Now  I  reckon  that  Dod  was  prejudiced  in  your  favor 
and  that  you  had  been  a  young  devil  the  folks  wanted  to 
boost  out  of  town.  Dod's  judgment  was  never  very  good 
in  the  case  of  any  critters  who  were  willing  to  cater  to 
him.  I  don't  suppose  you  dare  to  go  back  up  there?" 

"I  don't  want  to  go."  But  all  of  a  sudden  a  queer  wave 
of  homesickness  seemed  to  come  swelling  up  in  me  and 
to  choke  me  like  water  chokes  the  throat  of  a  dredge- 
pump.  "I'm  done  with  that  town  for  good  and  all,"  I 
told  him.  "  I  got  along  all  right  while  I  was  doing  dirt  as 
fast  as  the  rest  of  'em,  but  when  I  tried  to  be  decent 
they  didn't  give  me  a  show!"  I  snapped  my  finger.  "I 
wouldn't  give  that  for  anybody  in  Levant!" 

I  knew  I  was  lying  and  I  think  Jodrey  Vose  knew  it, 
for  he  was  a  keen  old  chap.  He  scowled  at  me  and  grunted. 

"Got  any  money  left  after  all  the  rake-helling  you've 
been  doing  for  a  year  past?" 

So  he  knew  all  about  that,  too ! 

"I'm  fixed  all  right!"  But  I  looked  up  at  the  ceiling 

69 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

of  my  room  when  I  said  it,  and  I  knew  I  was  not  fooling 
him.  I  ought  to  have  had  a  bank  account,  considering 
what  I  had  been  pulling  down.  I  had  all  my  capital  in 
my  pocket — a  roll  about  as  big  as  my  thumb.  I  had  con- 
siderable of  a  string  of  memories,  such  as  they  were,  re- 
garding money  I  had  spent;  I  had  a  brand-new  diving 
dress,  and,  above  all,  queer  as  this  may  sound,  I  had  a 
specially  new  outfit  which  was  my  chief  pride:  a  frock- 
coat  and  pearl-gray  trousers,  waistcoat  modestly  fancy — 
my  real  tastes  in  that  direction  having  been  gently  sup- 
pressed by  an  honest  tailor — and  a  plug-hat  whose  shini- 
ness  fairly  put  my  eyes  out.  And  up  to  that  time  I  had 
had  no  opportunity  to  wear  that  suit  except  in  front  of 
the  mirror  in  my  hiding-place ! 

I  had  tested  the  tilt  of  that  hat  at  a  dozen  different 
angles;  I  had  nearly  broken  my  neck  in  efforts  to  see 
just  how  the  coat-tails  flared  in  the  back.  With  a  chart 
as  help,  a  card  stuck  in  the  side  of  the  mirror,  I  had 
practised  tying  a  scarf  in  Ascot  style  until  my  staring 
eyes  watered  and  my  fingers  ached.  Then  I  had  walked 
back  and  forth,  trying  to  get  the  hang  of  a  cane. 

Again  I  suggest  that  this  may  sound  queer.  But  it 
was  only  another  manifestation  of  that  cheap  streak  in 
me,  so  I  reckon.  I  was  not  modeling  my  appearance  on 
the  looks  of  any  real  gentleman  I  had  ever  seen;  I  had 
not  bought  that  garb  in  order  to  appear  at  church  or  to 
climb  into  better  society.  But  from  the  time  I  was  ten 
years  old  I  had  nursed  one  special,  hungry,  despairing 
ambition.  At  the  county  fair  I  saw  "Diamond  Dick" 
Shrady  marshaling  his  painted  beauties  in  front  of  his 
tent,  and,  according  to  my  notion,  his  rig-out  was  apparel 
which  shaded  even  the  robes  of  royalty.  I  could  not 
conceive  higher  height  of  happiness  than  to  own  and 
wear  for  "every  day"  a  suit  like  that. 

Consider  the  lily — as  I  considered  "Diamond  Dick"! 
Then  consider  me  as  I  stood  in  front  of  that  tent ! 

I  had  on  brogan  shoes  which  I  had  fresh-tallowed  for 

70 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

the  day.  My  stockings  were  home-knit  and  bulged  out 
in  folds  over  the  tops  of  my  shoes.  But  I  was  not  so 
keenly  self-conscious  of  my  footwear  as  of  the  rest  of  my 
outfit,  because  Levant  boys  wore  brogans  quite  commonly. 
My  trousers  were  my  special  sore  point,  for  even  in  Levant 
they  had  been  ridiculed.  In  the  first  place,  the  cloth  was 
a  glazy,  stiff  stuff;  in  the  second  place,  my  good  mother 
did  not  understand  how  to  cut  out  a  boy's  pants.  There 
was  just  as  much  fullness  in  the  front  as  in  the  seat.  I 
kept  denting  in  that  fullness  with  my  fists  when  I  was 
unobserved.  I  found  that  by  stooping  quite  a  bit  when 
I  walked  or  stood  I  was  able  to  keep  the  fullness  caved  in 
and  less  noticeable.  It  was  a  wonder  I  did  not  become 
permanently  humpbacked  while  I  was  wearing  out  those 
pants.  The  legs  of  them  were  like  twin  stovepipes,  and 
almost  as  unyielding.  They  crackled  at  the  knees  when 
I  sat  down.  Add  to  those  items  of  attire  a  hickory  shirt, 
for  which  I  had  made  a  false  bosom  out  of  a  shingle 
painted  white,  a  paper  collar,  and  a  butterfly  bow  made  of 
a  gingham  rag,  a  hard  hat  which  was  a  paternal  hand-me- 
down;  they  called  them  "dips."  It  was  a  good  name. 
The  hat  was  exactly  the  shape  of  the  bowl  of  a  table- 
spoon. 

As  I  leaned  back  and  gaped  up  at  that  gorgeous 
stranger  on  the  platform,  straightening  myself  and  letting 
my  forward  fullness  swell  as  it  would,  there  was  born  in 
me  that  unconquerable  hankering — wild  desire  to  be 
dressed  like  that — sometime!  To  say  to  myself — some- 
time— "Now  I  am  dressed  right!  Everything  about  me 
is  just  as  it  should  be!" 

To  base  my  ideas  on  the  outfit  "Diamond  Dick"  wore 
was  probably  evidence  of  the  cheap  streak  in  me,  I  say, 
but  when  you  consider  me  as  I  stood  there,  and  then 
consider  the  lily,  is  there  not  some  excuse? 

I  confess  with  some  shame  that  during  my  hiding  in 
the  city,  while  I  was  tucked  away  in  that  boarding-house 
room,  my  chief  regret  was  not  that  I  was  out  of  a  job, 
6  71 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

was  not  that  I  had  battered  the  face  of  my  employer, 
but  was  because  I  could  not  go  out  and  swell  around  the 
streets  and  the  amusement  places  wearing  that  suit  and 
looking  that  picture  of  myself  which  had  been  the  ideal 
that  lulled  me  to  sleep  every  night  during  my  boyhood. 

I  was  having  some  of  those  dreams  while  I  sat  there 
and  gazed  up  at  the  ceiling.  At  last  a  big  dream  had 
come  true.  I  owned  that  suit  and  I  knew  I  looked  mighty 
well  in  it.  I  had  put  in  a  good  many  hours  in  front  of  the 
looking-glass  making  sure  of  that  fact.  But  now  that  I 
owned  it  I  was  getting  none  of  the  thrills  and  but  little 
of  the  satisfaction  I  had  looked  forward  to.  Realized 
ambitions  in  my  case — and  probably  it's  true  in  most 
cases — have  always  seemed  to  have  a  lot  of  discomforting 
tag-ends  tied  to  them.  I  was  practically  a  prisoner  in  a 
dingy  room,  I  could  not  go  out  and  sport  around  in  my 
new  regalia,  and  Jodrey  Vose,  who  had  undertaken  to 
make  a  man  of  me,  was  sitting  across  the  table,  scowling 
at  me  with  a  great  deal  of  disfavor. 

"Have  you  taken  up  drinking  along  with  the  rest, 
young  Sidney?" 

"No,  sir;  and  I  never  shall.    I'm  sure  of  that,  sir." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  next?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"You'd  better  go  back  to  Levant." 

"I'll  never  do  that." 

"Dod  writes  that  your  uncle  has  been  enlarging  his 
business  and  is  making  a  lot  of  money  and  is  going  to 
run  for  town  office.  He  must  need  a  chap  like  you  and 
has  probably  forgotten  any  little  trouble  he  might  have 
had  with  you." 

But  I  shook  my  head. 

"You  don't  expect  me  to  do  anything  more  for  you, 
do  you?" 

Again  I  shook  my  head.  That  homesick  feeling  was 
swelling  up  once  more. 

"I  hear  that  they  are  fitting  out  another  Cocos  Island 

72 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

expedition  to  hunt  for  the  Peru  treasure-ship.  You  might 
be  able  to  sign  on  there.  But  it's  a  fake  job.  There's  no 
sunken  ship.  However,  you'll  get  wages." 

"I  believe  I'll  try  the  Pacific  coast,  sir." 

He  slid  his  forefinger  back  and  forth  slowly  under  his 
nose. 

"It  might  do,  son.  I  have  thought  of  the  same  jump, 
myself.  I  have  waited  now  till  I'm  too  old.  What  started 
me  thinking  about  it  some  years  ago  was  the  Golden  Gate 
proposition.  What  troubled  me  about  making  up  my 
mind  was  that  some  said  the  treasure  had  been  got  out 
of  her  and  others  said  there  was  some  guesswork.  No- 
body seemed  to  be  willing  to  produce  any  proof  that  the 
treasure  was  still  there.  Looking  back,  I  can  see  now  why 
all  interested  parties  would  naturally  rather  have  it 
thought  that  the  treasure  wasn't  there.  But  when  a 
fellow  like  me  has  his  living  to  make  he  doesn't  want  to 
take  too  many  chances.  And  the  one  job  I  did  go  on 
sickened  me  of  treasure -hunting  on  somebody's  guess- 
work." 

He  was  silent  for  a  time. 

"I  am  sorry  you  are  in  your  scrape,  young  Sidney. 
You're  done  for  as  a  diver  in  these  parts  for  a  time.  Try 
the  Pacific.  I  don't  say  it's  a  bad  idea."  He  grinned  at 
me.  "If  you  recover  the  Golden  Gate  treasure  drop  me  a 
postal  card." 

Then  he  went  away,  making  no  more  ado  about  the 
matter  of  our  parting.  I  was  not  surprised  by  that 
manner  of  leave-taking.  I  am  a  Yankee  myself,  and  I 
had  found  myself  wishing  that  when  he  went  he  would 
walk  off  without  jawing  me  or  coddling  me. 

I  counted  my  money  and  sent  out  for  some  railroad 
folders  and  trailed  my  finger  across  the  map — and  stayed 
right  on  in  the  city,  week  after  week.  I  don't  know 
exactly  what  I  had  lost — ambition  or  pluck  or  what  it 
was !  But  that  was  a  spell  in  my  life  when  I  was  a  plumb, 
square  loafer,  and  rather  enjoyed  myself — reading  cheap 

73 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

novels  and  playing  solitaire  in  the  daytime,  then  getting 
in  with  some  of  the  rest  of  the  boarders  and  playing 
poker  evenings.  In  Levant  we  used  to  play  for  beans  in 
barn-chambers.  I  had  a  country  boy's  shrewdness  in 
that  game,  and  the  city  fellows  did  not  get  much  of  my 
money  away  from  me;  nor  did  I  get  any  particular 
amount  of  theirs. 

However,  the  pastime  did  bring  me  into  touch  with 
some  sporting  characters  and  with  some  queer  characters, 
too.  There  were  men  who  were  hiding  the  same  as  I  was. 
The  fact  that  I  was  under  cover  gave  me  open  sesame  to 
their  confidence.  They  talked  a  great  deal,  whiling  away 
dull  hours  in  the  day.  Several  were  in  the  house  where 
I  was  stopping,  and  after  a  time  I  dared  to  go  visiting 
around  a  bit  evenings  and  went  along  to  other  houses 
in  the  locality. 

It  was  all  new  to  me,  this  "flash"  side  of  life,  and  I 
listened  to  their  stories  with  eyes  and  mouth  open.  I 
conceived  an  idea  of  writing  out  these  stories  into  a  book, 
and  after  I  got  back  into  my  room  nights  I  would  jot 
down  all  I  had  heard,  names  and  all.  I  had  all  the 
nicknames  of  operators  down  pat — those  names  rather 
fascinated  me.  There  were  names  which  were  based  on 
personal  peculiarities  or  blemishes  or  system  of  operating. 
I  found  out  that  a  great  many  of  the  parties  were  linked, 
either  by  relationship  or  by  gang  ties,  and  that  the  wise 
boys  among  the  crooks  or  the  police  officers  could  tell  in 
many  cases  just  what  crowd  had  operated,  providing  the 
identity  of  one  man  could  be  revealed.  I  reckon  I  cal- 
culated in  those  times  that  I  was  going  to  make  an  ex- 
pose, for  I  made  many  notes  about  the  different  coteries 
and  their  associates. 

I  will  say  at  this  point  that  I  have  no  intention  of  writ- 
ing such  a  book,  and  I  have  gone  into  a  bit  of  detail  about 
the  matter  in  order  that  certain  following  activities  of 
mine  may  be  understood.  Otherwise,  I  might,  later  on, 
be  thought  to  be  advertising  myself  as  one  of  those 

74 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

know-it-all  and  do-it-all  heroes  of  fiction  instead  of  a 
plain  and  ordinary  chap  who  has  been  swayed  by  circum- 
stance and  governed  by  accident  in  large  measure. 

But  I  did  get  a  lot  of  fresh  and  lively  information  out 
of  those  chaps  with  whom  I  was  thrown  in. 

After  a  time  they  were  not  at  all  bashful  about  asking 
me  if  I  wouldn't  like  a  lay  in  some  of  their  operations. 

They  frankly  said  that  they  had  the  best  luck  in  country 
communities.  Understand  that  they  proposed  nothing 
except  brace  games !  No  safe-breakers  in  that  lot !  They 
said  I  had  an  honest  way  about  me  that  would  take  well 
in  the  country  districts. 

My  money  was  getting  so  low  I  listened  with  increasing 
interest.  I  cannot  say  that  I  was  tempted,  exactly.  But 
I  was  beginning  to  wonder  how  I  was  ever  going  to  make 
a  go  of  it  if  I  didn't  get  some  money.  My  Pacific  trip 
was  all  off  by  that  time!  My  capital  had  shrunk  below 
the  price  of  a  ticket. 

They  told  me  that  a  regular  village  skinflint  with  lots 
of  money  was,  in  most  cases,  a  prime  victim  if  the  right 
bait  was  offered;  with  the  right  bait  he  bit  more  easily 
than  the  more  liberal  kind  of  an  individual,  because  the 
skinflint  was  more  crazy  to  make  money  fast  and  was 
already  used  to  getting  high  rates  of  interest  for  all  money 
he  let  out.  They  were  making  constant  search  for  old 
chaps  in  country  communities,  well-to-do  men  who  would 
be  tempted  to  grab  at  a  rich  chance  or  could  be  induced 
to  serve  as  decoys  to  pull  in  the  neighbors,  provided  a 
sufficient  rake-off  were  offered. 

There,  too,  was  another  thing  which  surprised  me — 
that  so  often  really  prominent  men  could  be  secured  as 
decoys.  The  knaves  I  was  training  with  gave  me  a  lot 
of  stories  of  the  kind;  in  most  cases,  so  they  said,  the 
men  seemed  to  talk  themselves  into  believing  that  they 
were  offering  the  neighbors  an  opportunity  to  make 
money. 

If  I  had  not  been  idle  and  very  curious,  and  all  the  time 

75 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

wondering  how  I  could  make  a  little  money  for  myself, 
a  lot  of  this  would  have  gone  into  one  ear  and  out  of  the 
other.  But  I  was  in  the  mood  to  take  it  all  in,  and  so, 
in  that  foolish  belief  that  I  could  write  a  story,  I  set  down 
many  names  and  many  instances  until  I  had  well  filled 
a  sheaf  of  papers  which  I  sewed  together  into  a  sort  of 
note-book. 

There  were  various  side-lines  of  the  craft  of  cheaters 
where  I  was  allowed  to  be  an  observer.  I  watched  one 
of  the  chaps  make  up  his  face  for  a  trip  and  learned  about 
false  beards  attached  by  spirit  gum.  There  was  a  cute 
little  mustache  in  his  kit  and  I  asked  him  to  affix  it  to 
my  upper  lip.  He  allowed  me  to  keep  it  on  when  I  asked 
permission. 

I  felt  so  much  confidence  in  that  alteration  of  my  fea- 
tures that  I  went  directly  to  my  room,  put  on  that  rai- 
ment of  my  yearning  ambition,  took  in  hand  my  cane, 
and  went  forth  into  the  open. 

One  who  has  remained  long  within-doors  gets  used  to 
the  confinement  after  a  time  and  the  desire  to  go  out  is 
dulled;  there  are  persons  who  have  voluntarily  remained 
in  bed  in  perfect  health  for  years;  but,  once  the  plunge 
outside  is  made,  the  desire  for  further  liberty  grows  by 
what  it  grasps  in  the  blessedness  of  outdoors.  I  deter- 
mined to  be  free  from  then  on  and  to  test  the  quality  of 
that  freedom.  It  was  astonishing  what  confidence  I  felt 
in  myself  when  I  walked  abroad  in  that  rig,  casting  side- 
glances  at  myself  in  store  windows  as  I  walked.  It  is 
amazing  what  the  right  sort  of  clothes  will  do  for  a  man's 
grip  and  grit. 

I  went  down  to  the  docks  and  walked  about,  deliberately 
seeking  to  put  myself  in  the  path  of  Anson  C.  Doughty. 
He  did  come  face  to  face  with  me  after  a  time,  looked  at 
me  with  considerable  interest,  for  plug-hats  were  none 
too  common  in  that  locality,  and  passed  on  with  bland 
indifference.  My  transition  was  too  much  for  him;  I 
was  the  butterfly  that  had  emerged  from  the  cupa  cf  a 

76 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

diving-dress.  After  that  I  bestowed  no  further  thought 
on  dangers  to  be  apprehended  from  Anson  C.  Doughty. 

I  was  more  concerned  with  speculation  on  where  my 
next  meal  was  coming  from,  for  I  was  flat  broke.  I  sup- 
pose that  fact  had  something  to  do  with  driving  me  out 
on  the  street;  it  was  not  wholly  proud  eagerness  to  show 
myself  in  that  suit  of  clothes. 

All  of  a  sudden  I  received  direct  proof  that  a  plug-hat 
is  occasionally  something  to  conjure  by. 

Perhaps  it  is  on  the  principle  that  advertising  pays;  a 
man  with  slick,  silk  headgear  is  supposed  to  be  at  least 
something  which  can  be  classed  under  the  title  of  "pro- 
fessor." At  any  rate,  I  was  hailed  by  that  title  by  a  man 
who  stood  in  a  broad  doorway.  I  stopped  and  he  had 
something  interesting  to  say  to  me. 


VIII 

"TAKING  IT  OUT"  ON  A  SUIT  or  CLOTHES 

HPHAT  doorway  was  solidly  banked  with  banners 
1  frescoed  in  gaudy  colors  and  roughly  painted;  they 
advertised  a  show  within.  A  few  glances  I  had  time  to 
give  while  I  walked  toward  the  man  who  had  hailed  me, 
revealed  that  there  were  on  tap  such  features  as  "Petri- 
fied Mormon  Giant,"  "Siamese  Susie,"  "Mammoth 
Peruvian  Cockatoo,"  and  others.  Over  the  door  was 
heralded  in  big  letters:  "Dawlin's  Mammoth  Wonder 
Show." 

I  guessed  that  the  man  in  the  doorway  might  be  Dawlin. 
He  wore  a  corduroy  suit,  with  gaiters,  and  a  broad- 
brimmed  cowboy  hat  was  canted  on  one  side  of  his  head. 
By  the  way  in  which  he  was  looking  me  over  I  could  see 
that  I  was  suiting  him. 

"Hitched  up  with  a  show?"  he  asked. 

I  told  him  that  I  was  not,  and  I  said  it  with  consider- 
able curtness.  To  be  sure,  the  personality  and  garb  of 
Showman  Shrady  had  formed  my  early  ideal,  and  I  ought 
to  have  felt  gratified,  I  suppose,  when  this  man  took  me 
for  a  showman.  But  I  was  pricked  a  little  by  the  thought 
that  my  appearance  seemed  to  grade  me  on  that  plane. 

"Want  to  hitch  on?" 

"What  makes  you  think  I'm  in  the  show  business?" 

"I  had  you  sized  that  way  on  account  of  the  scenery." 

I  gathered  that  he  meant  my  clothes. 

"I  don't  see  any  circus  signs  on  this  suit  of  mine,"  I 
told  him. 

"Oh,  say,  I  didn't  mean  to  offend — but  it's  usually 

78 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

only  sports  and  professionals  who  tog  that  way  down  in. 
this  part  of  the  town.  If  you're  a  gent  you  seem  to  be 
off  your  beat." 

There  was  nothing  offensive  about  the  man — he  seemed 
a  good-humored  chap  who  was  a  little  cheeky. 

"Well,  what  if  I  had  been  a  showman — what  about  it?" 

44 1  was  going  to  offer  you  a  lay — here  at  the  door." 

"Selling  tickets?" 

"Good  gad,  no,  man!  I  want  you  for  the  spiel — for 
the  oratory — tongue- work — hooking  the  hicks!  You're 
rigged  out  just  right.  You  must  know  that  the  better 
the  front  we  put  on  at  the  door,  the  better  the  business 
inside!  But  excuse  me  if  I  got  the  tags  shifted!" 

I  swung  my  cane  with  one  hand  and  with  the  other  hand 
in  my  pocket  sifted  coins  through  my  fingers.  There 
were  not  many  coins.  I  needed  more  in  a  hurry.  It  had 
been  impressed  on  me  that  in  spite  of  all  my  pride  in  my 
attire  I  did  not  look  like  a  "gent";  it  was  certain  that  I 
did  not  feel  like  one.  Disappointment  was  curdling  pride 
in  me;  my  clothes  had  gone  back  on  me.  I  entertained 
a  sort  of  a  grudge  against  them.  All  of  a  sudden  I  made 
up  my  mind  to  get  back  at  those  garments  which  had 
cost  me  so  much  money  and  now  repaid  me  in  contentment 
so  niggardly. 

"It  would  be  all  new  business  for  me.  Can  I  do  it,  do 
you  suppose?"  I  asked  the  man. 

"Looks  are  half  the  battle.  You've  got  capital  in  your 
clothes  to  start  with.  You  don't  look  like  a  souse!  The 
last  two  I  have  had  on  the  door  pawned  their  rigs  for 
rum.  I've  got  the  patter  stuff  all  written  out.  All  you've 
got  to  do  is  study  it  and  reel  it  off  like  you  used  to  recite 
pieces  in  school." 

"What's  the  pay?" 

Seeing  surrender  in  my  face,  he  winked  and  crooked 
his  finger  in  invitation  to  me  to  follow  him  inside.  He 
led  me  into  a  narrow  little  office.  He  offered  a  drink  and 
a  cigar,  and  I  refused  both. 

79 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"Gee!  Some  principles,  hey?  Now,  if  you're  a  church 
member  I  reckon  you  won't  stand  for  the  lay!" 

"I'm  devilish  far  from  being  a  church  member,"  I 
told  him. 

"I  don't  like  to  open  up  too  much  till  I  know  a  little 
something  about  you.  Can  you  tell  me?" 

I  told  him  enough  to  make  him  pretty  much  at  ease. 

"Do  you  know  any  of  the  right  kind  in  this  locality — 
the  sporting  bunch?" 

I  gave  a  roster  of  acquaintances  that  made  his  eyes 
glisten. 

"Oh,  then,  you're  all  right!"  he  cried,  slapping  my 
knee.  "In  my  business  a  fellow  has  to  try  the  ice  before 
he  slides  out  too  far.  I'm  coming  right  across  to  you." 
He  waved  his  hand  to  indicate  his  establishment.  "This 
show  is  only  a  hinkumginny,  you  know!" 

"I  thought  so,"  I  said,  calmly.  I  hadn't  the  least  idea 
what  he  meant,  but  I  knew  that  one  needed  to  act  wise 
with  wise  gentlemen. 

"We  run  the  gazara  game  and  phrenology." 

I  nodded  and  winked  an  eye  as  if  I  had  been  quite 
sure  of  that  fact  right  along. 

He  scratched  a  few  figures  on  a  wisp  of  paper  and 
pushed  it  to  me  across  the  desk-slide  on  which  he  had 
set  out  the  whisky-glasses. 

"That's  the  split,"  he  said,  grinning.  Still  it  was  all 
Greek  to  me. 

"I  know  places  doing  half  our  business  and  paying 
twice  as  much — and  every  once  in  a  while  having  to 
settle  a  squeal,  at  that!  But  I've  got  a  cousin  at 
headquarters  —  see?  Nothing  to  it!  Now  you  can 
understand  what  a  sweet  little  pudding  you're  pulling 
alongside  of." 

I  was  wishing  I  could  understand  better,  though  I  was 
developing  a  dim  notion  that  he  was  talking  about  money 
paid  for  protection  from  the  law.  He  pulled  back  the 
paper  and  tore  it  up. 

80 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

' ' Only  fifty  a  week, ' '  he  said ;  "it's  nothing.  I'm  think- 
ing of  throwing  in  another  twenty-five  without  their 
asking.  It  beats  laying  up  treasures  in  heaven!" 

I  agreed. 

"Now  as  to  a  lay  for  you !  Of  course,  first  of  all,  I  have 
to  grab  off  my  fifty  of  the  net — it's  my  show  and  my 
pull!  Then  there's  the  'Prof — Professor  Jewelle.  He 
has  his  twenty-five  per  cent.  I'll  tell  you  straight,  now, 
I  have  been  getting  by  with  those  dickerdoodles  I've 
had  out  on  the  stand  for  fifteen  per  cent.,  and  'prof  and 
I  have  divided  the  other  ten.  But  they  were  crumby! 
Their  suits  were  wrinkled  worse  than  an  elephant's  dew- 
lap, and  the  nap  of  their  plug-hats  was  fruzzled  up  like 
the  fur  in  the  mane  of  the  Australian  witherlick.  No 
pull  to  that  class!  The  jaspers  jogged  right  past  without 
being  a  mite  impressed.  If  you  grab  in  with  us  your  looks 
and  your  style  make  you  worth  a  lay  of  twenty-five  per 
cent.  Now  what  say?" 

"I'll  grab,"  I  told  him,  and  never  did  a  man  hire  with 
less  idea  of  just  what  kind  of  a  business  he  was  entering 
or  what  pay  he  was  going  to  get  for  his  labor. 

"You  say  your  name  is  Ross  Sidney,"  said  the  boss, 
remembering  what  I  had  told  him.  "Mine  is  Jeff  Dawlin, 
Ross,  and  there's  no  mistering  among  partners."  He 
gave  me  a  few  dirty  sheets  of  paper.  "There's  your 
spiel  all  written  out.  You  can  add  your  own  talk  as  you 
work  into  the  spirit  of  the  thing.  The  idea  is  get  them 
to  stop,  look,  listen — and  then  coax  till  they  come  in.  If 
they  come  out  squealing,  you  go  on  and  bawl  them — 
bawl  them  down!  There's  some  good  work  to  be  done 
in  that  line — and  you're  husky  and  can  scare  'em,  pro- 
viding Big  Mike  hasn't  already  scared  'em  enough. 
There  isn't  a  thing  in  the  show  but  what's  a  fake — of 
course  you  understand  that.  Most  of  'em  are  too  ashamed 
to  squeal." 

He  was  leading  me  into  the  inner  mysteries  of  the 
place  while  he  talked.  He  made  no  reference  to  the  ob- 

81 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

jects  which  were  ranged  around  the  sides  of  the  big  room, 
plainly  despising  them  as  curiosities  which  could  not 
possibly  interest  anybody.  But  they  interested  me 
mightily  and  I  lagged  behind  to  give  each  one  a  glance 
in  passing. 

"Siamese  Susie"  was  made  up  of  a  couple  of  big  wax 
dolls  confined  in  a  single  dress.  "The  Peruvian  Cock- 
atoo" manifestly  had  been,  when  he  was  alive,  the  humble 
master  of  some  up-country  barn-yard;  now  he  was  tricked 
out  with  all  sorts  of  dyed  false  feathers,  including  an 
enormous  topknot.  The  "Mormon  Giant"  was  a  papier- 
mache*  figure,  and  there  was  a  hideous  thing  labeled 
"Mermaid"  constructed  of  the  same  material  as  the  giant. 
There  were  a  few  other  nondescript  exhibits  in  dingy 
glass  cases  or  mounted  on  stands  draped  in  dirty  hangings. 
I  had  never  seen  a  collection  of  more  shameless  frauds. 
I  began  to  understand  that  I  had  not  been  let  in  on  the 
main  proposition  for  money-making. 

On  one  side  of  the  room  there  were  curtains  lettered: 
"Professor  Jewelle,  the  World's  Greatest  Seer."  The 
professor  came  out  when  Dawlin  called  for  him.  He  wore 
a  wig  and  false  white  whiskers,  and  had  watery  eyes,  and 
a  breath  like  a  whiff  from  a  distillery  chimney.  A  big 
brute  of  a  man  was  loafing  in  one  corner  of  the  room,  and 
I  reckoned  that  this  person  must  be  Big  Mike;  I  had 
seen  many  such  of  the  bouncer  sort  when  I  had  made 
my  rounds,  hunting  for  experiences. 

Mr.  Dawlin  introduced  me,  and  I  seemed  to  make  a 
good  impression. 

When  he  slyly  slid  out  the  information  that  I,  too, 
had  been  having  troubles  which  had  kept  me  under  cover 
for  some  weeks,  I  noted  that  I  stood  even  higher  in  their 
estimation. 

As  we  talked  on  I  began  to  feel  a  bit  ambitious.  I 
thought  I  might  be  able  to  improve  business. 

"Look  here,"  I  suggested,  "why  not  put  a  tank  in 
here  and  let  me  do  some  of  my  diving  stunts?  It  would 

82 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

be  a  novelty — there  really  doesn't  seem  to  be  much  to 
the  show  as  it  stands." 

"Say,  I  haven't  pulled  a  greenhorn  into  camp,  have  I?" 
inquired  Mr.  Dawlin  with  a  good  deal  of  tartness.  "  Show  ? 
Good  gad!  who  ever  said  we  wanted  a  show?" 

I  did  not  know  what  to  say  to  that  and  so  I  did  not 
answer. 

"What  do  you  think  I  would  be  doing,  or  the  'prof 
would  be  doing,  while  the  jethros  were  crowded  around 
you?  We  wouldn't  be  doing  a  thing  in  the  line  of  the 
regular  graft.  The  main  idea  of  this  concern  is  to  get 
'em  in  here  where  there's  nothing  to  take  up  their  minds 
after  they've  had  one  look  around  the  place.  Then  they 
begin  to  feel  that  they  want  to  get  something  for  their 
money.  So  the  'prof  hands  'em  the  dome  dope — feels 
their  bumps — and  I  feed  'em  the  gazara  stuff.  How 
many  times  have  I  got  to  tell  you  what  this  place  is?" 

"Oh,  I'm  wise,"  I  said,  trying  hard  to  look  that  way. 
"But  of  course  I'm  anxious  to  do  all  I  can  to  help." 

"The  zeal  of  youth!  The  zeal  of  youth!"  prattled  the 
professor.  He  seemed  to  me  to  be  pretty  much  of  an  old 
fool.  He  had  that  smug,  cooing  way  with  him — all  put 
on  like  the  airs  of  a  country  undertaker.  He  came  across 
to  me  before  I  could  understand  what  he  was  about  and 
stuck  his  thumb  onto  a  spot  on  the  top  of  my  head  and 
pressed  with  his  forefinger  a  little  lower  down.  "Yes, 
approbativeness  well  developed  and  conscientiousness — 
this  where  my  finger — " 

"Oh,  shut  up!"  snorted  Mr.  Dawlin.  "Don't  try  to 
put  that  stuff  over  among  friends." 

"However,"  the  professor  went  on,  continuing  to  fondle 
my  head,  "the  development  of  the  brain  upward,  for- 
ward, and  backward,  from  the  medulla — " 

"Save  it  for  the  cud- wallopers,  I  tell  you!" 

"If  this  young  man  is  going  to  have  his  say  about  me 
in  front,  I  want  him  to  know  that  the  science  of  phre- 
nology has  a  good  exponent  here,"  said  the  professor. 

83 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

I  reckon  he  had  seen  me  looking  him  over  without  a 
great  amount  of  liking  and  was  anxious  to  put  on  a  bit 
of  a  front. 

"He'll  say  that  you'll  read  all  heads  free  of  charge, 
and  that's  all  he'll  say,"  stated  Mr.  Dawlin.  "It  isn't 
necessary  for  him  to  know  the  difference  between  a 
medulla  and  a  free-lunch  pickle — and  I  don't  believe  you 
know,  yourself.  Ross,  we  want  to  open  the  doors  again 
to-morrow.  Do  you  think  you  can  get  the  gist  of  that 
patter  into  your  head  overnight?" 

I  thumbed  the  dirty  sheets  and  said  I'd  do  my  best. 

Therefore,  I  went  to  my  room  and  applied  myself. 
There  was  a  lot  of  extravagant  guff  about  the  curiosities, 
flowery  flapdoodle  of  the  usual  barker  sort. 

The  next  morning  I  was  able  to  make  some  sort  of  a 
try  at  it  from  the  stand,  for  I  have  said  before  that  I 
always  was  more  or  less  cheeky.  A  sort  of  a  fluffy-ruffle 
damsel  with  bleached  hair  was  in  the  ticket-office  and 
there  never  was  a  young  fellow  yet  who  did  not  try  on  a 
little  extra  swagger  when  a  girl  was  hard  by.  She  smiled 
at  me  encouragingly  when  I  had  arrested  the  attention 
of  a  few  passers,  some  of  whom  bought  tickets  and  went 
in.  I  guess  I  must  have  smiled  back,  for  Dawlin,  who  was 
standing  in  the  doorway,  appraising  my  first  efforts,  came 
and  climbed  up  beside  me  and  growled  in  my  ear. 

41  You're  breaking  in  fine.  Only  put  a  little  more  punch 
and  sing-song  into  it!  And,  by  the  way,  the  dame  who 
is  shuffling  the  pasteboards — she's  private  goods — mine!" 

"I  don't  want  her,"  I  said,  with  considerable  heat. 

"I  don't  say  you  do — but  a  lot  of  trouble  has  some- 
times been  made  in  partnerships  by  women.  So  that's 
why  I  have  flipped  the  buried  card  at  the  start-off.  Now 
tune  up  and  let  it  went!  If  your  voice  gets  husky  I'll 
send  out  a  handful  of  bird-seed  and  a  hunk  of  cuttlefish." 

I  reckoned  he  was  trying  his  cheap  humor  on  me  to 
smooth  the  insult  about  the  girl.  It  seemed  to  me  like 
an  insult,  and  he  understood  pretty  well  how  I  felt. 

84 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

So  I  went  to  my  job  and  minded  my  own  business  most 
exclusively. 

Day  after  day,  for  several  weeks,  I  stood  up  on  my 
rostrum  and  cajoled  folks  into  that  joint,  and  I  say 
frankly  and  honestly  that  for  a  long  time  I  did  not  have 
full  understanding  of  just  what  went  on  inside.  Possibly 
that  statement  makes  me  out  a  mighty  stupid  chap. 

But  I  was  ashamed  to  ask  any  more  questions  after 
what  Dawlin  had  yapped  out  about  his  suspicions  that  I 
was  a  greenhorn. 

I  did  not  have  any  special  conversation  with  him,  any- 
way. I  was  still  ugly  when  I  thought  upon  his  warning 
about  that  painted  girl — as  if  I  wanted  her!  And  I  was 
careful  that  she  should  have  no  word  to  carry  to  him 
about  me;  I  never  looked  in  her  direction. 

Furthermore,  I  did  not  want  to  know  very  much  about 
what  they  were  up  to  inside.  I  was  ashamed  of  my  job. 
It  struck  me  that  if  I  came  to  know  all  the  fraud  of  the 
thing  I'd  jack  the  proposition.  An  ostrich  sort  of  atti- 
tude, to  be  sure,  a  foolish  evasion,  but  that's  just  how  it 
was,  like  other  things  which  came  up  in  my  life,  things 
not  lending  themselves  readily  to  explanation  as  I  look 
back  on  them  now. 

I  saw  patrons  come  out,  some  angry  and  with  red 
faces,  some  ashamed,  some  laughing — but  only  a  few  of 
the  last,  and  they  were  plainly  chaps  who  took  it  as  a 
joke  when  anybody  could  put  something  across  in  their 
case. 

Man  after  man  came  out  with  a  broad  piece  of  paper 
in  his  hand,  crumpled  it  up,  swore,  and  dashed  it  down  on 
the  sidewalk. 

It  was  a  chart  purporting  to  be  a  reading  of  bumps, 
as  Professor  Jewelle  sized  up  the  patron's  cranium. 
Nobody  seemed  to  be  very  well  pleased.  A  lot  of  them 
pitched  into  me  and  said  that  I  had  promised  that  the 
reading  was  free. 

Well,  the  reading  was  free. 

85 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

But  once  the  victim  had  ventured  inside  the  curtains 
and  after  the  free  reading,  the  professor  handed  over  the 
chart  and  demanded  three  dollars  for  it. 

Disputes  ended  promptly,  for  Big  Mike  was  always 
present.  The  vocabulary  of  that  bellowing  bull  was 
limited  to  two  words  in  those  seances — "Three  dollars!" 

Of  course  I  had  to  find  this  out  before  long  or  stand 
convicted  in  these  records  as  liar  and  half-wit  combined. 

I  also  found  out  about  the  gazara  game,  Mr.  Dawlin's 
special  project. 

There  was  an  oblong  box  in  which  were  stacked  leather 
envelopes,  each  envelope  bearing  a  numbered  card. 

Mr.  Dawlin  seemed  to  be  a  very  generous  individual; 
he  would  allow  patrons  to  win  considerable  money  by 
picking  prize  envelopes  into  which  he  had  slipped  crisp 
bills;  he  also  seemed  to  be  a  careless  operator.  For 
instance,  he  would  quite  openly  put  a  twenty  or  a  fifty 
dollar  bill  into  the  envelope  holding  the  card  numbered  o. 
Then  he  would  shuffle  the  envelopes  and  with  carelessness 
utterly  blind  would  leave  the  corner  of  that  card  sticking 
up  a  bit,  revealing  the  upper  part  of  the  numeral.  Fever- 
ishly excited  patrons  would  bid  high  for  the  privilege  of 
drawing  first — sometimes  almost  as  high  as  the  prize 
itself,  for  Mr.  Dawlin  had  plainly  left  a  good  thing  ex- 
posed. But,  strangely  enough,  what  had  seemed  like  the 
figure  o  was  revealed  in  the  drawing  as  the  figure  9  with 
an  exaggerated  upper  loop.  If  the  patron  made  moan 
and  let  out  the  secret  of  his  grief,  Mr.  Dawlin  reproached 
him  for  trying  to  take  advantage  of  an  oversight  in  an 
honest  game.  Such  was  the  activity  known  as  "gazara" 
in  our  establishment!  I  don't  know  who  gave  the  game 
that  designation.  I  believe  that  in  Maccabees  a  town  of 
that  name  is  spoken  of — and  being  in  Apocrypha  seems 
well  placed.  It  may  be  that  the  game  started  there — at 
the  same  time  the  gold-brick  game  was  hatched  in  Go- 
morrah. Both  schemes  must  be  very  ancient — for  they 
are  true,  tried,  and  certain. 

86 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

Mr.  Dawlin  had  much  information  to  give  me  regard- 
ing games  in  general.  He  told  me  about  his  brother  Ike, 
a  proficient  gold-brick  artist.  He  said  that  if  I  cared  to 
go  into  that  line  he  would  put  me  next  to  his  brother. 
Mr.  Dawlin,  as  had  the  others  of  his  fraternity,  compli- 
mented me  on  my  honest  looks.  When  I  dared  to  suggest 
that  the  gold-brick  scheme  must  be  known  to  everybody, 
and  all  played  out,  he  laughed  at  my  ignorance.  He  said 
that  getting  a  whole  lot  for  a  little  always  had  been  a  bait 
for  human  greed  and  always  would  be;  as  to  getting  at 
the  yaps  in  these  days,  it  was  only  a  matter  of  fresh  style 
of  approach  and  men  like  his  brother  were  thinking  up 
new  methods  of  approach  all  the  time. 

Men  who  needed  money  in  a  hurry  to  make  up  a 
balance  were  almost  always  ready  to  gamble  heavily  and 
desperately. 

He  said  his  brother  had  a  deal  on  at  that  very  time,  but 
that  it  was  too  late  for  me  to  get  in  on  that,  for  the  thing 
was  all  set  and  pretty  near  ready  to  be  pulled  off.  It  was 
an  up-country  case,  of  course. 

"Plant  by  'Peacock'  Pratt,"  said  Dawlin.  That  was 
a  new  name  for  my  roster  of  rascality,  and  I  stuck  it  into 
a  mental  pigeonhole.  "Pratt  is  a  white-vest  operator. 
Paunch  scenery!"  He  saw  that  I  wasn't  catching  him 
very  well  and  explained  that  Pratt  affected  the  manner 
of  a  prosperous  Westerner  who  regularly  stoned  neigh- 
bors' chickens  out  of  his  garden  with  gold  nuggets. 

Speaking  of  gold,  I  was  not  specially  dissatisfied  with 
the  rake-off  I  was  getting  from  these  precious  rascals, 
though,  of  course,  it  was  small  as  compared  with  my 
diver's  wages.  But  standing  in  the  sunshine  under  a 
plug-hat  with  nothing  to  do  but  gabble  nonsense  was  a 
softer  snap  than  grubbing  under  muddy  water  with  a 
diver's  helmet  stuck  over  my  head.  I  was  truly  in  a  way 
to  succumb  to  the  blandishments  of  my  cheap  streak  and 
settle  down  into  the  practice  of  roguery. 

But  I  had  some  sense  of  shame  left  in  me.    I  kept  on 

7  87 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

that  disguising  mustache  when  I  was  before  the  public. 
It  was  not  much  of  a  mask,  to  be  sure,  but  it  comforted 
me  a  bit  to  know  that  it  made  me  look  unlike  myself. 

And  that's  why  the  Sortwell  boys  from  Levant  did  not 
recognize  me  when  they  halted  on  the  sidewalk  one  day 
and  listened  to  my  barking. 

There  they  were,  the  two  of  them,  grown  up  to  man- 
hood; but  they  were  mighty  green  specimens.  They 
were  looking  at  the  banners  rather  than  at  me.  I  wagered 
with  myself  that  it  was  the  first  time  they  had  ever  been 
in  the  big  city;  even  one  trip  would  have  rounded  off  some 
of  the  rough  corners  they  were  showing.  For  instance, 
they  surely  would  have  had  experience  with  such  a  peep- 
show  as  we  were  running  and  would  not  have  been 
tempted. 

They  walked  over  to  the  painted  maiden  and  asked  her 
if  she  could  recommend  the  show;  they  grinned  and 
gaped  at  her  amorously.  She  fawned  on  them  and  they 
bought  tickets  and  went  in.  I  wasn't  a  bit  sorry,  nor  did 
I  try  to  stop  them.  My  last  experience  with  the  gang  in 
Levant  had  not  implanted  in  me  any  hankering  to  hug 
and  kiss  the  Sortwell  boys. 

I  watched  for  them  to  come  out,  for  I  felt  pretty  sure 
that  they  would  be  properly  trimmed  and  I  anticipated 
secret  relish  in  looking  on  their  faces.  I  told  myself  I 
didn't  care.  If  a  good  jolt  should  be  handed  to  them  it 
would  help  in  satisfying  my  grudge  against  the  town  which 
had  sent  me  flying.  Bitterness  was  in  me  at  that  moment. 
I  was  glad  I  was  out  of  the  jay  place.  If  I  had  stayed  there 
I  would  be  looking  just  like  those  simpering  rubes  who 
had  gone  in  like  lambs  to  be  sheared.  I'd  never  want  to 
go  back  to  that  town,  I  decided  all  over  again. 

When  they  came  out  each  one  carried  one  of  Professor 
Jewelle's  charts,  and  they  were  crying  like  great  calves — 
actually  guffling  slobbering  sobs.  They  went  away  a 
little  distance  and  stood  on  the  sidewalk,  looking  at  each 
other  and  scruffing  tears  from  their  eyes  with  the  palms 

88 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

of  their  hands.  Awhile  back  if  somebody  had  told  me  I 
would  see  a  couple  of  big,  larruping  chaps  from  Levant 
doing  that  on  the  street  in  broad  daylight,  I'd  have 
predicted  a  good  laugh  for  myself. 

Well,  there  was  nothing  like  that  in  my  case ! 

A  lump  swelled  in  my  throat.  I  don't  know  what  it 
was — whether  'twas  homesickness,  longing  for  my  own 
people  of  my  own  kind,  spectacle  of  boys  who  had  gone 
barefoot  with  me,  sight  of  their  sorrow,  mindfulness  of 
what  the  cruel  city  had  done  to  me,  reflection  that  I  had 
helped  in  a  measure  to  get  them  into  their  scrape — I  say 
I  don't  know  just  what  it  was.  But  my  throat  gripped 
and  tears  flowed  up  into  my  eyes.  Those  poor  devils, 
who  were  children  in  spite  of  their  size,  were  helplessly 
adrift — I  could  see  that.  Something  special  must  have 
happened  to  them. 

I  seem  to  be  stopping  to  analyze  my  emotions.  At 
the  time  I  was  doing  nothing  of  the  sort.  I  felt  a  comfort- 
ing sense  that  I  was  not  a  rascal  down  in  my  heart,  in 
spite  of  what  I  had  done  and  of  the  job  I  was  holding 
down. 

I  left  my  rostrum,  ran  into  the  little  office,  and  tipped 
Dawlin's  bottle  of  whisky  against  my  upper  lip;  the 
alcohol  dissolved  the  gum  and  I  ripped  off  the  mustache. 
Then  I  chased  along  after  the  Sortwell  boys.  They 
were  far  up  the  street,  plugging  slowly  with  bowed 
shoulders. 

When  I  came  close  upon  them  I  took  my  time  to  get 
my  breath  and  control  my  emotions.  Then  I  called  to 
them,  and  they  turned  around  and  stared  at  me  with 
eyes  which  expressed  all  the  range  of  feelings  between 
interrogation  and  stupefaction. 

"Well,  haven't  you  anything  to  say  to  an  old  friend?" 
I  asked. 

"It  ain't  you,"  faltered  the  older.  "It  may  look  like 
you,  but  it  ain't." 

"There  ain't  anything  in  this  place  that's  looking  like 

89 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

it  really  is,"  whimpered  the  younger.  "There  was  a  card 
with  a  zero  on  it  and  it  wasn't  a  zero — it  was  a  nine — and 
he  took  our  money." 

"Have  you  lost  your  money,  boys?" 

"All  of  it — every  scrimptom  of  it,"  bawled  the  older. 

"We  'ain't  got  anything  to  get  home  with.  We  saved 
up  to  come  down  and  see  the  city  for  a  couple  of  days — 
and  now  it's  all  gone." 

"We  worked  all  winter  logging — sweating  and  freezing 
in  Cale  Warson's  swamp — to  earn  that  money,  and  that 
hell-hound  down  there  took  it  and  jammed  it  into  his 
pants  pocket.  And  how'll  we  get  home?" 

Oh,  I  knew  what  logging  in  a  swamp  was!  I  knew  what 
sort  of  wages  were  paid  and  how  hard  it  is  to  save !  That 
one  sentence  fairly  lanced  my  conscience.  "He  jammed 
it  into  his  pocket !"  To  Jeff  Dawlin,  who  reached  out  and 
took  in  his  money  so  easily,  those  bills  were  hardly  more 
than  so  much  paper,  as  he  handled  them. 

But  he  had  not  been  a  boy  in  a  country  town  where 
money  is  not  come  at  so  easily,  where  the  little  hoards 
grow  so  slowly,  where  there  are  so  many  dreams  about 
the  big  world  up  in  the  attics  under  the  patched  cover- 
lids— dreams  which  the  little  savings  may  bring  to 
realization! 

These  were  boys  from  my  home  town.  Thank  God,  a 
lot  of  the  cheap  in  me,  the  soul-dirt  I  had  rubbed  off  in 
my  associations,  the  cynical  notions  about  right  and 
wrong,  the  inclinations  of  a  swaggering  sport — yes,  a 
whole  lot  of  that  slime  was  washed  out  of  me  right  there 
and  then  by  my  new  emotions.  I  don't  say  I  was  made 
anyways  clean — not  all  of  it  went.  I  have  done  many 
things  since  then  to  be  ashamed  of.  But  I  was  a  blamed 
sight  more  of  a  man  when  I  went  up  and  patted  those 
poor  boys  on  their  backs,  standing  between  them. 

"Don't  take  on  about  it  any  more,  fellows,"  I  said. 
"I  guess  I'll  be  able  to  do  something  for  you."  My  tone 
was  pretty  important  and  they  began  to  look  me  over; 

90 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

they  had  been  so  fussed  up  that  they  had  not  taken  full 
stock  of  me  till  then. 

"Golly!    You're  rich,  ain't  you?"  gasped  the  older. 

"Now  about  losing  this  money — where  did  you  lose 
it?"  I  asked,  swelling  a  little  more  because  I  knew  I  was 
in  the  way  to  make  a  big  impression. 

"Down  the  street  there — where  those  fraud  duflickers 
are  all  billed  out!  It  looked  like  a  zero — " 

"And  they  charged  three  dollars  apiece  for  feeling  of 
our  heads!"  put  in  the  younger.  "There  was  a  big  man 
who  cracked  his  fists — " 

"Never  mind!  I  know  all  about  all  such  places,  boys. 
I  won't  allow  any  such  things  to  be  put  across  in  this  city 
on  any  friends  of  mine!" 

I  was  talking  as  if  I  owned  the  town.  They  goggled  at 
me  as  if  they  believed  that  I  did  own  it.  When  I  started 
back  toward  Dawlin's  joint  they  followed  me  like  hounds 
at  heel. 

I  flipped  a  lordly  gesture  at  the  girl  in  the  ticket- 
office  and  walked  in  without  paying — herding  my  clients 
ahead  of  me.  That  was  visible  evidence  of  my  mys- 
terious importance,  and  they  looked  up  at  me  as  if 
they  were  ready  to  fall  down  and  offer  worship.  For  in 
America  any  man  who  can  walk  past  ticket-sellers  and 
pay  by  a  flip  of  the  hand,  displays  a  power  which  auto- 
crats may  envy. 

"You  are  sure  this  is  the  place?"  I  asked  the  Sortwell 
boys. 

They  breathlessly  assured  me  that  it  was. 

"And  there's  the  man  who  made  us  pay  him  six  dollars," 
declared  the  older. 

Professor  Jewelle  had  stepped  out  through  the  slit  in  his 
curtains.  I  walked  up  to  him. 

"Did  you  charge  these  gentlemen  six  dollars — take 
the  money  from  them?"  I  asked,  sternly. 

He  saw  that  there  was  something  on  and,  like  a  rogue, 
believed,  of  course,  that  I  was  plotting  further  graft  on 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

these  innocents.    He  played  up  to  me  with  shrewd  prompt- 
ness. 

"If  I  have  done  anything  wrong  I  ask  pardon,"  he 
whined. 

"These  are  particular  friends  of  mine.  Hand  over 
their  money  at  once!" 

He  turned  his  back  on  them  while  he  pulled  out  the 
money  and  gave  me  a  wink  which  indicated  that  he  was 
on  and  approved  whatever  game  I  was  playing.  I  kept 
my  face  straight  and  stern,  for  the  boys  were  surveying 
me  with  adoration. 

I  handed  them  the  money  and  went  across  to  Mr. 
Dawlin's  booth,  the  hicks  at  my  heels. 

Mr.  Dawlin  was  by  nature  more  suspicious  of  his 
fellow-man  than  was  Professor  Jewelle,  and  he  evidently 
resented  the  fact  that  I  had  not  tipped  him  off  in  advance. 
He  regarded  me  with  much  sullenness  when  I  commanded 
him  to  return  the  money  he  had  taken  from  the  gentlemen. 
His  sour  unwillingness,  mingled  with  his  uncertainty, 
really  helped  my  game  along.  It  looked  as  if  I  had  the 
power  to  force  even  such  a  balky  mule  as  Dawlin  seemed 
to  be. 

"I  don't  know  about  this!"  he  growled.  > 

"I  can't  help  that!  You'll  have  to  take  my  word — 
till  you  can  get  something  better,"  I  added,  and  I  put  a 
little  significance  into  my  last  words. 

And  Mr.  Dawlin,  being  a  rascal  who  thought  he  could 
sniff  a  plant,  decided  to  grab  in  on  a  partner's  game. 
"Why,  sure,  boss,"  he  cried,  heartily,  "if  that's  the  way 
you  feel  about  it!  Take  any  gents  that's  friends  of 
yours  and  all  you  have  to  do  is  speak  the  word!"  He 
pulled  out  of  his  trousers  pocket  a  big  wad  of  crumpled 
bills.  "Do  you  know  how  much  they  spent  backing  their 
opinion  against  mine?" 

"It  was  twenty-two  dollars — it  was  just  twenty-two 
dollars,"  piped  one  of  the  boys,  amd  the  other  one  helped 
out  on  the  chorus. 

92 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"The  rising  young  financiers  seem  to  have  no  doubt," 
sneered  Dawlin. 

The  older  boy  looked  at  the  big  swatch  of  bills  and 
rasped  his  rough  hands  together. 

"Perhaps  money  don't  mean  much  to  you,  mister, 
handling  it  the  way  you  do!  But  if  you  earnt  twenty- 
two  dollars  by  day's  work,  getting  into  a  popple-swamp 
before  sunup,  I  guess  you'd  know  it  when  you  counted 
those  dollars  out  to  anybody." 

"So  that's  the  way  you  earned  this  money?  How  much 
more  did  you  earn?"  Dawlin  screwed  a  look  at  me,  show- 
ing fresh  suspicion. 

"I'll  do  the  talking,"  I  said.  "I'll  talk  because  I 
know  what  I'm  doing!  I  say  only  this:  hand  over  the 
coin!" 

"And  I  say  again,  I  don't  know  about  that!" 

I  reckoned  I  was  overplaying  my  air  of  importance,  so 
I  found  a  chance  to  slip  him  a  wink  which  promised  a 
good  deal. 

''But  you  know  who  I  am!"  I  told  him. 

"Yes,"  he  admitted. 

"Then  pay!" 

He  began  to  grin,  finding  this  little  comedy  amusing 
as  well  as  mysterious. 

"Sure  thing,  boss!  And  seeing  that  it's  you  and  your 
orders,  here's  five  dollars  for  your  friends  on  top  of  the 
twenty-two.  Go  and  buy  five  dollars'  worth  of  corned 
beef  and  eat  your  heads  off !  Nothing  like  going  the  limit 
when  you  come  down  to  the  big  burg!" 

I  gave  Mr.  Dawlin  a  knowing  look  when  I  turned  to 
leave. 

"My  friends  are  much  obliged  for  the  extra  five — but 
they  can  use  it  for  something  else  besides  eats.  Come 
on,  gentlemen!  You  will  be  my  guests  at  dinner." 

I  could  see  by  Dawlin's  face  that  he  took  that  last  as 
a  straight  tip  from  me  that  I  had  designs  on  the  country- 
men— and  that  he  would  understand  why  I  was  quitting 

93 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

my  job  for  a  time.  He  gave  me  a  most  benignant  smile 
when  I  left. 

Professor  Jewelle  smirked  and  bowed  when  we  passed 
him. 

Big  Mike,  the  ogre  of  the  place,  stepped  politely  to 
one  side  and  twisted  his  ugly  mug  into  a  one-sided  grin  of 
apology. 

§o  we  went  out  in  state. 

There  was  a  new  feeling  in  me.  It  was  a  longing  to  be 
with  those  boys  from  home.  Up  to  then  I  had  been 
ashamed  to  meet  anybody  from  Levant.  And  out  of 
that  shame  had  come  a  sort  of  dread  to  hear  any  news 
from  my  old  town.  Now  I  was  hungry  for  news. 

To  be  sure,  just  at  that  moment  I  was  in  a  fool's  paradise 
of  spurious  importance.  It  was  comforting,  however,  to 
be  set  on  a  pedestal  by  those  Sortwell  boys,  and  to  know 
that  at  least  two  persons  from  Levant  had  stopped  think- 
ing of  me  as  a  runaway  scalawag. 

Along  with  my  new  feelings  had  come  a  sort  of  vague 
hope. 

I  walked  out  of  Dawlin's  place  with  a  hazy  notion  that 
I  would  never  go  back.  Dawlin  was  evened  up  with  me 
as  to  finances — I  had  my  last  week's  rake-off  in  my 
pocket. 

And  I  may  say  right  here  that  I  never  did  go  back — 
not  to  stand  up  and  coax  suckers!  When  I  did  go  back 
I  played  Mr.  Jeff  Dawlin  for  one! 


IX 

A   GRISLY   GAME    OF   BOWLS 

I  DID  not  bother  with  any  of  the  victualing  houses  in 
that  low-down  locality.  I  led  the  Sortwell  boys  up- 
town and  ushered  them  into  a  very  fancy  restaurant.  I 
could  see  that  their  opinion  of  my  greatness  was  grow- 
ing all  of  the  time.  I  could  not  induce  them  to  touch 
the  bill  of  fare  or  even  look  at  it.  They  gaped  in  such  a 
frightened  way  when  I  mentioned  fancy  dishes,  that  I 
helped  to  set  them  at  ease  by  ordering  steak  and  pota- 
toes. They  ate  to  the  last  scrap,  cleaning  their  plates 
with  morsels  of  bread,  even  as  grateful  pups  lick  their 
platters.  They  confessed  that  they  had  not  dared  to  go 
into  an  eating-house,  and  I  remembered  that  first  day 
when  I  had  roamed  the  streets  of  the  city. 

I  wanted  to  ask  questions  about  Levant,  but  I  delayed. 
Dave  Sortwell,  the  older,  opened  up  the  subject,  but  he 
did  not  do  it  very  gracefully. 

"I  reckon  they  can't  slur  the  Sidneys  after  this,  like 
they  have  always  done  past  back,"  he  said.  "Here  you 
are,  something  big  down  here  in  the  city — and  your 
uncle  Deck  is  first  selectman  of  Levant." 

So  my  uncle  had  achieved  his  political  ambition! 
When  I  heard  that  news  I  had  inside  me  a  feeling  of 
apprehension  which  I  could  scarcely  account  for. 

"Elected  last  week  at  the  March  town-meeting," 
affirmed  Ardon,  the  brother.  "We  younger  fellows  that 
have  come  of  voting  age  went  for  him — most  all  of  us, 
because  he  says  he  is  going  to  turn  politics  in  our  town 
upside  down  and  dance  a  jig  on  the  bottom  of  'em." 

95 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"He  was  into  the  tavern  the  other  night,  pretty  well 
teaed  up,"  giggled  Dave,  "and  he  said  he  was  going  to 
gallop  Judge  Kingsley  to  hell  and  stand  over  him  with  a 
red-hot  gad  while  he  shoveled  brimstone.  He  has  got  it 
in  for  the  judge — and  a  good  many  folks  in  Levant  ain't 
sorry.  Judge  Kingsley  has  always  gouged  folks." 

"Did  they  put  the  judge  out  of  the  treasurership — did 
my  uncle  bring  that  about?"  Hearing  that  the  feud  was 
on  worse  than  ever  made  my  heart  sick.  I  had  been 
hoping ! 

"O  Lord,  no!  I  guess  the  judge  is  forever  fixed  in 
that  job.  Folks  can't  seem  to  think  of  anybody  else  as 
treasurer.  He's  a  financier,"  said  Dave,  reverently.  "He 
knows  all  about  handling  money.  Folks  trust  to  him 
for  that." 

"But  you  say  my  uncle — ' 

"Your  uncle  is  doing  most  of  the  saying.  Folks  stand 
round  and  listen.  I  don't  know  what  he  is  trying  to  do 
to  the  judge.  Nobody  seems  to  know.  Guess  he  can't 
do  much  of  anything  except  talk.  You  know,  yourself, 
Ross,  how  he  keeps  sparked  up  most  of  the  time.  Maybe 
he  don't  know  just  what  he  says,  himself." 

I  began  to  skirt  the  edges  of  conditions  in  Levant,  ask- 
ing questions  about  this  one  and  that,  showing  as  much 
indifference  as  I  could.  But  the  Sortwell  boys  showed 
even  more  indifference  about  their  home  town.  It  was 
all  too  familiar  to  them.  They  were  displaying  increasing 
interest  in  me,  and  were  emboldened  to  ask  questions,  now 
that  their  early  awe  was  wearing  off. 

I  found  out — and  I  was  rather  surprised — that  the 
folks  in  Levant  had  not  heard  a  word  about  me  since  I 
left  the  town.  I  had  rather  expected  that  Dodovah  Vose 
would  drop  some  hint  as  to  what  had  become  of  me — 
and  yet,  on  reflection,  I  could  see  that  prudence  required 
him  to  keep  still.  He  had  helped  a  prisoner  to  escape, 
and  could  not  well  let  anybody  suspect  that  he  knew  the 
whereabouts  of  that  prisoner. 

96 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"I'll  tell  you,  boys,"  I  said,  when  they  had  flanked  me 
with  questions  from  every  approach  and  had  finally  and 
fairly  pounced  on  me  to  find  out  what  I  was  doing  for  a 
living  and  how  I  was  so  important,  "I  am  hitched  up 
with  big  business  interests  who  don't  allow  their  men  to 
talk.  I'd  tell  you  if  I  could  tell  anybody.  It  isn't  one 
special  kind  of  business — it's  all  kinds — a  sort  of  a  syndi- 
cate— a  combination.  You  understand!" 

They  hastened  to  say  that  they  did — and  I  was  glad 
of  that  because  I  didn't  understand,  myself. 

"But  you'll  let  us  say  that  you're  in  this  big  business, 
won't  you?  When  we  get  back  home  we  want  to  tell  all 
of  'em  that  they'd  better  not  slur  you  any  more." 

"I  suppose  the  backbiters  have  been  busy,  eh?" 

"Oh,  not  much  nowadays  except  somebody  remarks 
once  in  a  while  that  you  had  to  skip  the  town.  You 
know  how  such  things  pop  up  in  talk.  Your  uncle  being 
prominent  nowadays,  you  get  mentioned  once  in  a  while. 
But  Dodovah  Vose  has  always  stood  up  for  you!" 

"And  a  lot  of  folks  didn't  believe  what  that  detective 
said.  He  wasn't  a  real  detective,  anyway.  He  was  only 
a  deputy  sheriff  from  Pownal,"  added  Ardon,  and  the 
next  minute  I  felt  like  hugging  the  boy.  "I  was  always 
ashamed  of  how  us  fellows  put  you  in  bad,  Ross,  and  so  I 
owned  up  when  Celene  Kingsley  asked  me — " 

I  couldn't  help  it !    I  came  right  up  in  my  chair. 

"Celene  Kingsley  asked  you?" 

He  misunderstood  my  heat. 

"Don't  be  mad,  Ross!  I  stood  up  for  you,  I  say!  I 
was  sorry  for  what  I  did.  I  was  ashamed." 

"But  you  said  Celene  Kingsley  asked  you  something!" 

"Well,  I  can't  remember  whether  she  came  right  to 
me  and  asked  me  or  whether  it  just  happened  that  the 
thing  came  up  somewhere  or — " 

"But  you  would  surely  remember  if  she  came  to  you!" 
I  could  not  conceive  of  Celene  coming  to  anybody  with- 
out it  marking  a  mile-stone  in  life. 

97 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

However,  the  Sortwell  boy  had  plainly  decided  to  be 
non-committal  until  he  had  a  better  line  on  my  feelings 
in  the  affair. 

"I  don't  want  you  to  be  mad  because  I  talked  it  over, 
Ross.  I  stood  up  for  you!" 

"But  did  she  come  asking?" 

"We-e-11,  I  guess  she  must  have  asked — or — or  some- 
thing! Anyway,  it  came  up  in  talk — somehow — " 

Confound  his  haziness! 

"And  of  course  I  stood  up  for  you.  It  was  only  right! 
I  told  her  how  you  tried  to  bust  up  the  Skokums!  I  said 
you  threatened  to  bat  out  the  brains  of  the  whole  of  us 
if  we  didn't  stop  cutting-up.  I  told  her  that  they  hadn't 
ought  to  have  arrested  you  that  night,  for  you  was  trying 
to  stop  us  from  raiding  her  father's  house  to  grab  that 
detective.  You  said  something  about  a  home  being  a 
castle — or — or  something.  Anyway,  Ross,  I  did  the  best 
I  knew  how — I  ain't  so  much  good  in  talk  as  you  are. 
Honestly,  I  did  the  best  I  could  to  put  you  straight  when 
she  asked.  Yes,  I  reckon  she  did  ask." 

I  was  looking  at  him  with  such  rapturous  expres- 
sion that  his  face  cleared  of  uncertainty  regarding  my 
feelings. 

"Sure,  she  must  have  asked,  for  I  wouldn't  go  to  blart- 
ing  that  around,  making  the  rest  of  us  out  as  pirates, 
unless  she  had  pinned  me  down.  I  reckon  she  did  just 
that !  Pinned  me  down.  But  I  was  glad  to  help  you  out 
that  much!" 

It  came  to  me  with  a  rush  of  sentiment  that  all  I  had 
done  that  day  for  the  Sortwell  boys  had  been  fully  paid 
for  long  in  advance,  and  I  was  sorry  because  a  whole  lot 
of  my  actions  had  really  been  dictated  by  my  selfishness 
and  my  desire  to  show  off. 

I  reached  across  the  table  and  took  his  hand. 

"Ardon,  I'm  going  to  own  up  that  I  have  had  a  lot  of 
bitter  thoughts  about  the  folks  in  Levant  since  I  left 
home.  But  if  I  had  known  that  I  had  only  one  friend 

98 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

there  like  you  have  been  in  this  matter,  I  would  have  put 
all  the  bad  things  out  of  my  mind." 

"I  only  told  the  truth,  Ross." 

"But  that's  the  hardest  job  a  man  undertakes  to  do 
in  a  lot  of  cases."  I  was  thinking  just  then  how  hard  / 
would  find  it  to  own  up  about  myself,  and  how  I  had 
secured  that  money  from  the  clutches  of  the  rogues  in 
Dawlin's  joint.  And  there  I  was,  making  a  lot  of  capital 
out  of  that  deceit! 

But  after  what  I  had  just  heard  I  was  resolved  to  go 
ahead  and  make  more  capital  out  of  my  pretensions  to 
greatness. 

"You're  going  to  let  us  say  that  you  have  made  good, 
aren't  you?"  asked  Dave. 

"I'd  like  to  get  back  into  the  good  opinion  of  the  old 
town,  boys.  If  you  feel  like  saying  something  nice  about 
me  when  you  get  back  to  Levant,  I'll  be  grateful." 

" Say,  if  we  don't  blow  your  horn!"  they  cried  in  concert. 

"But  not  too  loud,  boys!  I  don't  want  to  have  too  big 
a  reputation  to  live  up  to  when  I  come  back  home." 

They  stood  up  and  clapped  me  on  the  back. 

"By  gorry!  you  will  come,  won't  you,  and  show  'em?" 
pleaded  Dave.  "Come  and  show  "em!" 

"But  there's  one  thing  to  be  thought  of  first,"  I  said, 
with  a  grin.  "Has  my  uncle  Deck  stopped  threatening 
to  kill  me  on  sight?" 

That  stirred  their  memories  and  fetched  a  laugh. 

"He  wouldn't  dare  to  give  you  as  much  as  one  yip  if 
you  walked  up  to  him  looking  like  you  do  now,"  said 
Dave. 

The  thought  which  he  suggested  was  comforting;  so 
much  in  this  world  does  depend  on  outside  appearances. 
The  hankering  in  me  to  go  back  was  whetted;  just  to 
make  a  show  in  the  face  and  eyes  of  Levant,  to  stop  their 
tongues  for  good  and  all!  But  I  was  conscious  that  deep 
under  those  cheaper  motives  was  something  more  com- 
pelling. I  had  felt  the  thrust  of  it  after  Ardon  Sortwell 

99 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

had  told  me  of  his  confession  to  Celene.  She,  at  least, 
knew  that  I  had  not  been  a  renegade,  and  she  had  taken 
enough  interest  in  me  to  make  sure  on  that  point. 

"When  are  you  coming  back,  Ross?"  demanded 
Dave. 

"Don't  tell  anybody  I  am  coming  back,  boys.  Prom- 
ise me  that." 

They  did. 

"But  you  may  say  that  you  saw  me  in  the  city,  and  that 
I  am  doing  well,  and  sent  my  best  regards  to  all  my 
friends." 

"We'll  make  their  cussed  old  ears  sing,"  declared 
Ardon.  "  Don't  you  worry  about  us !" 

"If  I  can  arrange  my  business  so  as  to  leave  it,  I  may 
run  up  later." 

I  showed  them  some  of  the  city  sights  that  afternoon 
and  they  started  for  home  that  night — and  I  saw  to  it 
that  they  were  safely  aboard  their  train. 

That  I  should  dream  of  Levant  that  night  was  entirely 
natural.  They  were  enticing  dreams  and  they  made  me 
homesick  and  I  found  out  that  I  was  not  such  a  bold  man, 
after  all,  in  spite  of  the  shell  I  had  grown;  I  felt  very 
much  like  a  boy  when  I  woke  next  morning.  I  was 
hungry  for  my  own  folks. 

In  my  haste  to  be  gone  I  forgot  all  my  caution.  I 
went  down  to  the  water-front  just  as  if  there  were  no 
such  person  as  a  vengeful  Anson  C.  Doughty. 

I  had  cached,  temporarily,  my  diving  equipment.  I 
went  to  the  storage-man  and  arranged  for  its  care,  paying 
in  advance. 

Then  I  was  bold  enough  to  go  hunting  up  Jodrey  Vose 
because  I  wanted  to  carry  some  fresh  and  direct  message 
to  his  brother  in  order  to  secure  continued  favor  in  the 
case  of  the  tavern-keeper;  he  certainly  had  been  my  best 
friend  in  Levant.  I  intended  to  lodge  with  him  and  I 
dreaded  his  keen  questioning  in  case  I  went  to  him  with 
lies  about  when  I  had  seen  his  brother  last. 

100 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  found  the  captain  on  his  lighter  and  we  had  a  good 
talk  during  his  rest-spell. 

"I'm  sorry  it  has  turned  out  for  you  as  it  has,  young 
Sidney.  But  it's  a  good  idea  for  you  to  run  up  to  the  old 
town  and  hang  round  with  Dod  for  a  while  and  sort  of 
get  your  feet  placed  all  over  again.  Maybe  something 
will  turn  up  down  this  way  later!" 

"Anson  C.  Doughty's  toes,  perhaps." 

He  wagged  his  head,  soberly. 

"  I'm  glad  you  came  down  to  take  leave,  son,  but  you're 
running  chances.  Anson  C.  Doughty  is  mighty  ugly. 
He  was  beaten  up  in  front  of  his  crew — and  folks  haven't 
got  done  talking  and  he  knows  they  are  talking.  You'd 
better  be  hipering,  I  reckon." 

He  sent  one  of  the  helpers  to  his  cabin  for  a  parcel  and 
he  put  it  into  my  hands. 

"It  '11  be  handier  than  sending  it  by  express  to  Dod," 
he  said.  "It's  a  skull  I  found  in  the  dock.  Tell  him  to 
make  up  a  pirate  yarn  to  go  with  it." 

Being  thus  equipped  with  full  credentials  as  to  my  con- 
tinued comfortable  standing  with  Jodrey  Vose,  for  the 
purposes  of  my  further  intimacy  with  Dodovah  Vose,  I 
started  up  the  wharf  in  excellent  spirits,  my  thoughts  on 
my  home-going. 

And  half-way  to  the  street  I  fairly  bumped  into  Anson 
C.  Doughty.  It  was  no  coincidence — I  ought  to  have 
reckoned  on  that  meeting — the  manager  was  regularly 
up  and  down  the  wharf  at  all  hours  of  the  day.  But,  as 
I  have  said,  I  had  lost  my  caution.  I  had  met  him  once 
face  to  face,  and  had  not  been  recognized.  But  I  was 
no  longer  wearing  that  mustache. 

He  swore  a  blue  streak  and  danced  back  and  forth  in 
front  of  me,  waving  his  hairy  hands  to  shoo  me  back.  He 
looked  just  as  much  like  a  cockroach  as  ever. 

"You  belong  in  State  prison  and  you're  going  there," 
he  snarled. 

There  were  two  wharf  loafers  near  by,  the  only  men 

101 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

in  sight.  He  called  to  them,  and  they  came  to  us,  a  couple 
of  husky  stevedores. 

"You  know  me!"  shouted  Doughty.  "You  two  men 
hold  this  sucker  till  I  can  fetch  a  cop.  Hold  him!  Don't 
let  him  get  away!" 

He  ran  off  toward  the  street. 

I  had  not  a  chance  to  get  away  from  those  big  chaps 
on  that  narrow  wharf — and  it  was  plain  that  they  knew 
Anson  C.  Doughty  and  recognized  his  authority  in  those 
quarters. 

So  here  were  all  my  fresh  plans,  my  hankering  for 
home,  my  new-laid  reputation  for  Levant  consumption 
about  to  be  kicked  into  the  black  depths  of  tophet  by 
the  grudge  of  Anson  C.  Doughty! 

I  could  see  that  the  stevedores  despised  my  size  because 
I  was  wearing  a  plug-hat;  they  glowered  at  me  with  the 
natural  enmity  the  man  in  overalls  feels  for  the  dandy. 
It  was  perfectly  damnable — that  situation!  To  be 
arrested — to  be  shown  up  for  what  I  was — the  thought 
screwed  my  desperation  to  the  breaking-point. 

I  pulled  my  wallet  and  began  to  flick  out  bills. 

"He's  only  trying  to  get  back  at  me  on  account  of  a 
grudge,  fellows;  he's  using  you  for  tongs,"  I  told  them. 
"I  was  one  of  the  divers  and  I  batted  him  when  he  in- 
sulted me!  I  want  to  get  out  of  town!  Here's  a  piece 
of  money!  He  won't  give  you  anything." 

I  had  the  skull  under  my  arm  and  my  wallet  in  my 
hands,  and  I  wasn't  paying  much  attention  to  the  men 
while  I  counted  out  money. 

"Who  was  the  gink  who  told  us  to  hold  the  guy?" 
muttered  one  of  the  men.  "Was  it  Doughty?" 

"Sure!    You  know  him,"  said  his  companion. 

"But  he  don't  know  us!" 

"He  won't  remember  who  you  are!"  I  hastened  to  put 
in.  "  Take  some  money,  and — ' 

"You  bet  we'll  take  some  money,"  barked  the  two  of 
them  in  chorus,  and  the  next  instant  one  of  them  clutched 

102 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

me  and  the  other  grabbed  wallet,  money  and  all,  and  they 
ran  away,  ducked  into  an  alley  between  storehouses,  and 
disappeared. 

I  was  free  at  a  high  price. 

I  ran  after  them,  of  course,  but  they  were  nowhere  in 
sight  when  I  reached  the  parallel  wharf,  and  so  I  started 
for  the  street;  and  Anson  C.  Doughty  saw  me,  for  he 
was  running  up  and  down  the  sidewalk,  wildly  hunting 
for  a  policeman.  When  he  undertook  to  head  me  off  I 
pitched  the  wrapped  skull  at  him  with  all  my  might;  it 
plunked  him  squarely  in  the  face  and  dropped  him,  and 
then  went  bounding  along  the  pavement  at  a  lively  clip. 
I  was  conscious  that  a  lot  of  people  were  looking  on  and 
that  a  hullabaloo  was  started.  But  in  spite  of  that  I 
stopped  to  pick  up  the  skull  before  I  fled  from  the  place. 
I  reckon  I  must  have  felt  considerable  of  a  sense  of  respon- 
sibility where  the  interests  of  my  friends,  the  Voses,  were 
concerned ! 

I  got  through  a  short  street  on  the  jump,  caught  a 
passing  car  and  when  I  was  once  aboard  I  was  lost  to 
pursuers — I  was  merely  one  of  the  city's  mass,  and  my 
garments  testified  for  me. 

I  dug  down  into  my  pockets  and  found  a  few  crumpled 
bills  and  some  silver — the  loose  money  I  carried  outside 
my  wallet.  The  whole  of  it  amounted  to  mighty  little — 
only  about  enough  to  take  me  to  Levant,  as  I  remem- 
bered what  the  train  fare  had  been. 

I  did  not  stop  to  figure  on  any  further  resources;  I 
did  not  dare  to  go  and  seek  aid  from  any  of  my  ac- 
quaintances; I  did  not  go  back  to  my  room  for  any 
of  my  belongings.  Panic  was  on  me.  To  be  caught 
at  that  time  meant  the  toppling  of  my  cardboard 
house  of  hopes  and  reputation.  I  did  not  know  to 
what  extent  Anson  C.  Doughty  would  throw  out  his 
drag-net — but  I  was  pretty  sure  that  he  would  drop 
all  his  other  business  for  a  time  and  attend  strictly 
to  what  concerned  me.  He  surely  was  the  angriest 

8  103 


WHERE   YOUR  TREASURE    IS 

man  I  had  seen  in  many  a  day  when  he  went  down 
under  the  impact  of  that  package. 

To  get  out  of  that  city  just  as  quickly  as  I  could,  before 
he  could  set  persons  on  my  trail,  or  put  spies  at  the 
city's  outlets,  was  the  only  sensible  course  open  to  me. 

So  in  less  than  half  an  hour  I  found  myself  on  the 
train,  homeward  bound,  just  as  much  of  a  fugitive  from 
the  city  as  I  had  been  in  other  days  when  I  headed  tow- 
ard it. 

I  had  a  little  spare  change  in  my  pocket  and  a  skull 
under  my  arm. 


X 

THE  ART  OF  PUTTING  ON  A  FRONT 

HAVING  caught  a  train  out  of  the  city  at  a  fairly 
early  hour  in  the  forenoon,  I  made  a  daylight  ride 
of  it  to  Levant,  and  I  stepped  out  upon  the  platform  at 
Lower  Corners  just  before  sundown. 

I  remember  that  the  red  March  sun  was  almost  touch- 
ing the  rocky  edge  of  the  beech  ridge,  and,  with  the  bare 
trunks  of  the  trees  striping  it,  looked  like  a  coal  fire  with 
the  stove  cover  off  and  a  griddle  on.  In  fact,  as  I  looked 
up  at  the  sun  and  reflected  on  the  general  condition  of 
my  affairs,  I  felt  as  if  I  were  the  particular  live  lobster 
destined  for  the  griddle  in  Levant. 

But  I  walked  past  the  platform  loafers,  leaving  my  satin- 
lined  overcoat  open  so  that  they  might  get  the  full  effect 
of  my  frock  suit.  No  one  seemed  to  recognize  me;  Levant 
Corners  is  all  of  three  miles  from  Levant  village,  and 
there  was  never  much  mixing  between  the  communities 
when  I  was  a  boy.  I  set  off  at  a  good  pace  to  walk  the 
three  miles  to  Dodovah  Vose's  tavern. 

Men  in  several  teams  which  overtook  me  offered  a  lift, 
and  one  of  them  addressed  me  as  "Elder."  Evidently 
my  clothes  were  producing  an  impression!  But  I  de- 
clined all  offers.  I  had  waved  the  stage-driver  aside,  and 
now  if  I  accepted  a  free  ride  I  might  have  brought  sus- 
picion on  my  financial  ability.  So  I  told  them  all  politely 
that  I  needed  exercise  and  walked  on  in  all  my  dignity — 
and,  being  encumbered  by  nothing  except  a  skull  under 
my  arm,  I  found  my  tramp  pleasurable. 

105 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  went  along  at  such  a  clip  that  I  topped  the  long  rise 
from  the  river  where  the  railroad  winds  and  was  able  to 
look  down  on  distant  Levant  village  before  the  lingering 
dusk  had  settled  into  night.  The  stripped  trees  had  left 
all  the  houses  bare  and  rather  bleak ;  there  was  no  beauty 
anywhere.  The  afternoon  chill  had  hardened  the  road 
mud  into  iron  ridges.  Being  back  on  my  native  heath 
was  not  so  consoling  and  heart-thrilling  as  I  had  pictured. 
That  faded,  sodden,  frozen  landscape  was  depressing.  I 
looked  like  a  millionaire,  but  I  belonged  on  the  town  farm. 
There  was  one  thing  to  remember,  however.  My  uncle 
as  first  selectman  was  also  overseer  of  the  poor,  by  virtue 
of  his  office. 

I  wondered  what  he  would  say  to  me  if  I  walked  up 
to  him  and  tried  to  borrow  money!  On  second  thought, 
I  knew  so  well  what  he  would  say  that  I  promptly  decided 
that  I  would  keep  my  mouth  shut  in  regard  to  my  finances. 

I  hurried  on,  for  there  was  an  inviting  twinkle  of  light 
in  the  windows  of  Vose's  tavern.  I  was  carrying  a  rather 
gruesome  ticket  of  admission,  but  a  message  from  Jodrey 
Vose  went  along  with  it  and  it  would  make  me  especially 
welcome. 

For  some  distance  the  highway  was  bordered  by  woods, 
and  at  last  I  saw  a  roadside  sign  which  gave  me  a  bit  of 
a  thrill,  for  it  bore  the  magic  name  of  Kingsley. 

"FOR  SALE.  THIS  WOOD-LOT.  APPLY  TO  Z.  KINGSLEY." 
That's  what  the  sign  said. 

Before  I  was  fairly  on  my  way,  after  stopping  to  read, 
I  was  able  to  put  eyes  on  Z.  Kingsley,  himself.  He  was 
in  a  carriage  which  was  coming  in  my  direction  and  his 
daughter  was  driving  a  horse  which  was  too  likely-looking 
to  have  been  furnished  by  my  uncle. 

I  did  not  reflect  or  consider.  I  had  no  clear  notion 
in  my  mind  at  that  instant.  I  suppose  I  was  overcome 
by  an  irresistible  hankering  to  hear  her  voice — to  speak 
to  her. 

At  any  rate,  backed  by  that  longing  or  by  courage  or 

106 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

cheek  or  whatever  else  it  might  be  called,  I  stepped  out 
into  the  middle  of  the  road  and  put  up  my  hand.  I  reckon 
if  Judge  Kingsley  had  been  driving  he  would  have  run 
over  me.  His  blessed  daughter  pulled  up  short. 

I  took  off  my  hat  and  he  gave  me  a  sharp  glance  and 
recognized  me.  And  so  did  Celene,  for  she  smiled  even 
while  she  looked  a  bit  startled. 

"Drive  on!"  snapped  her  father. 

"Judge  Kingsley,  I  want  to — 

He  checked  me  with  much  impatience,  and  I  was  glad 
of  it,  for  I  was  not  prepared  to  tell  him  just  what  I  did 
want.  I  knew  I  wanted  to  rush  up  to  her  and  say  a  lot 
of  things,  but  I  was  conscious  that  the  action  would  not 
have  made  much  of  a  hit  with  her  father. 

"I  have  no  time  to  waste  on  you,  sir.  I  have  to  catch 
a  train." 

"But  the  train  has  gone  along,"  I  stalled.  "I  just 
came  in  on  it." 

"I  am  going  the  other  way — to  the  city!"  He  showed 
considerable  temper. 

"We  have  plenty  of  time  before  the  down  train  is  due, 
father,"  Celene  told  him.  He  reached  after  the  reins,  but 
she  held  them  away  from  him,  showing  that  she  had  more 
or  less  of  the  Kingsley  obstinacy,  herself. 

"What  do  you  want,  sir?    Quick!" 

It  was  a  rather  contemptuous  command,  but  it  was 
showing  more  consideration  for  a  member  of  the  Sidney 
family  than  I  had  dared  to  hope  for.  If  he  had  taken 
up  the  whip  and  lashed  at  me  at  first  meeting  I  would 
not  have  been  surprised.  It  was  evident  that  my  per- 
sonal appearance  was  having  weight  with  him.  I  ventured 
to  believe  that  the  Sortwell  boys  had  been  advertising 
me  in  town,  though  they  were  only  a  few  hours  ahead  of 
me. 

I  rolled  my  eyes  around,  trying  to  think  of  something 
sensible.  I  saw  the  sign  again. 

"What  is  your  price  on  this  wood-lot,  Judge  Kingsley?" 

107 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"I  can't  stop  to  talk  business,  sir." 

"But  I'm  simply  asking  the  price.  You're  advertising 
it.  You  must  have  put  a  price  on  it." 

"  I'll  be  back  in  a  week  or  ten  days.  Come  to  me  then. 
I'm  in  a  hurry." 

I  put  on  a  fine  air  of  importance. 

"So  am  I,  Judge  Kingsley!  So  are  the  big  interests 
which  I  represent.  But  we  are  never  in  too  much  of  a 
hurry  to  answer  polite  questions  in  business.  I  say, 
what  is  your  price?" 

"Two  thousand  dollars,"  he  cracked  out. 

"How  many  acres?" 

"Forty." 

I  raised  my  hat  and  stepped  to  one  side. 

"That's  all,  sir.  I'll  investigate  and  be  ready  to  talk 
with  you  when  you  return.  Good  evening!" 

I  could  see  that  he  was  taken  aback  a  bit  by  my  own 
shortness  in  the  matter.  He  sat  there  holding  his  mouth 
open  as  if  he  intended  to  say  something  more,  but  I 
walked  on;  it  came  to  me  that  perhaps  he  was  going  to 
say  that  he  wouldn't  do  any  business  with  a  Sidney — 
and  I  was  avoiding  all  argument  on  that  point. 

Celene  gave  me  another  flicker  of  a  smile  when  she 
started  the  horse.  They  went  on  at  a  good  clip,  and  the 
moment  they  were  out  of  sight  around  a  bend  in  the 
road  I  turned  back,  climbed  the  fence,  and  sat  down  be- 
side some  bushes.  My  heart  was  so  warm  within  me  that 
I  was  not  afraid  of  a  chill. 

I  was  guessing  that  she  would  not  waste  any  time  in 
making  that  trip  to  the  railroad  station;  you  see,  I  was 
building  high  merely  on  the  glances  she  had  been  giving 
me — on  the  flush  which  was  on  her  cheek  when  she  drove 
away.  Would  she  hurry  back  to  overtake  me?  She  did. 

When  I  saw  her  coming,  snapping  her  whip  to  make 
the  horse  trot  at  a  brisker  pace,  I  climbed  back  over  the 
pitch-pole  fence  and  leaned  against  it.  It  was  pretty 
dark,  but  she  spied  me  and  stopped  the  horse. 

108 


WHERE   YOUR  TREASURE    IS 

"I  have  done  something  rather  foolish,"  I  told  her, 
staying  where  I  stood. 

"Yes?" 

"And  I  have  found  out  all  over  again  that  haste  makes 
waste.  I  wanted  to  get  a  peep  at  that  stand  of  timber 
and  I  went  racing  around  in  the  dark — and  so  I  have 
wrenched  my  ankle." 

"Oh,  I  am  so  sorry!" 

"It's  my  own  fault!  It's  what  the  city  does  to  a  man! 
Keeps  him  on  the  gallop !  Makes  him  too  impatient  to 
wait  for  morning." 

"Can  you  get  to  the  carriage?" 

"But  I  don't  like  to  trouble  you,  Miss  Kingsley!,  If 
you  will  send  a  team — " 

"No,  you  shall  ride  with  me!  The  idea  of  my  leaving 
you  in  the  woods  alone!  I'll  come  and  help  you." 

"No,  I'll  manage!" 

So  I  limped  to  the  carriage  and  climbed  in.  She  watched 
me  anxiously  and  asked  after  my  hurt  with  solicitude.  I 
was  doing  a  pretty  mean  thing,  I  knew,  but  the  opportu- 
nity to  be  alone  with  Celene  Kingsley  that  first  hour  of  my 
arrival  in  town  was  a  favor  to  be  grabbed  for  and  hugged 
jealously.  She  walked  the  horse,  and  I  sat  beside  her 
and  was  so  happy  in  that  first  intimacy  that  I  was  not  a 
bit  ashamed  of  my  deceit. 

"So  you  are  doing  wonderful  things  in  the  city!"  she 
said,  after  a  time.  I  had  not  spoken,  for  I  was  afraid  of 
blurting  out  something  foolish. 

"Nothing  so  very  grand,"  I  faltered. 

"But  Dave  and  Ardon  Sortwell  have  had  something 
to  say  about  that  since  they  have  been  home.  I  am  very 
glad  for  you,  Mr.  Sidney." 

"I'd  rather  please  you  than  anybody  else."  That 
was  a  mighty  awkward  answer  and  I  was  just  as  much 
embarrassed  as  she  was. 

"Good  news  about  Levant  boys  pleases  us  all  up  here." 

"Sometimes  I  have  thought  they  liked  the  bad  news 

109 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

best — the  most  of  'em.    The  way  they  drove  me  out  and 
then  talked  behind  my  back  was — " 

"I  know  all  the  truth  of  it — and  most  of  the  folks  do 
now,  I  think,"  she  broke  in.  "You  must  put  it  all  out 
of  your  mind.  You  must  not  come  back  with  resentment 
toward  anybody.  There's  too  much  of  that  in  the  world. 
There's  too  much  in  Levant." 

She  hesitated  a  moment  and  then  burst  out  with  a 
tremble  in  her  voice. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Sidney,  I  am  so  thankful  because  you  have 
come  home!  I  do  hope  you  can  have  some  influence 
with  your  uncle.  I  ask  your  forgiveness  for  bringing  it 
up  so  soon.  But  my  heart  is  so  full  of  it  all!  I  hurried 
back,  hoping  I  could  overtake  you." 

So  that  was  why  she  had  hurried ! 

"I  don't  know  about  having  influence  with  my  uncle," 
I  said,  and  I  could  not  keep  all  of  the  rasp  out  of  my 
voice.  Her  welcome  of  me  simply  as  an  uncle-tamer  had 
pricked  me  in  a  mighty  tender  place.  "  I  don't  believe  he 
is  going  to  give  me  either  three  cheers  or  a  hug  and  kiss 
when  he  sees  me." 

"But  you  are  an  important  man,  now,  and  he  must  be 
proud  of  you  and  your  success.  He  will  look  up  to  you 
now  that  you  have  money  and  position." 

Like  a  bang  on  the  head  the  conviction  struck  me  that 
I  had  cut  out  a  fine  bit  of  work  for  myself  when  I  dropped 
back  into  my  home  town. 

I  had  been  all  too  well  advertised  by  my  loving  friends. 

Celene  Kingsley  had  touched  squarely  on  one  truth: 
the  only  way  to  handle  my  uncle  was  to  appear  important 
even  if  I  were  not  important.  Mere  bluff  would  go  a 
little  way — but  not  far.  I  must  have  money! 

And  here  I  was  picked  by  her  as  her  champion  in  the 
family  feud! 

If  I  had  only  stayed  in  the  city!  There  was  money  to 
be  come  at  there.  Dollars  in  Levant  were  nailed  down 
with  spikes. 

no 


WHERE   YOUR  TREASURE   IS 

"We  haven't  one  happy  hour  in  our  home,"  she  wailed. 
"Your  uncle  is  breaking  my  father's  heart,  Mr.  Sidney. 
I  don't  understand  what  your  uncle  is  doing;  mother 
doesn't  understand  it !  Father  has  never  told  his  business 
to  us.  But  he  sits  in  his  office  and  figures  and  figures. 
Sometimes  he  stays  there  'most  all  night.  And  it's  all 
on  account  of  your  uncle!  I  know  that!  For  my  father 
says  your  uncle  is  hounding  him  to  death.  You  must 
find  out  what  he  is  doing.  I  know  you  will  find  out  and 
tell  him  he  must  stop." 

"I  will  look  into  the  matter,"  I  said,  as  bravely  as  I 
could.  "Of  course  there's  been  hard  feeling  between 
my  uncle  and  your  father  for  a  good  many  years." 

"But  my  father  is  sorry  now  for  anything  in  the  past. 
He  says  so  to  us,  to  mother  and  me.  He  sent  mother  to 
your  uncle  to  ask  him  if  he  would  not  stop  persecuting. 
Yes,  she  went  to  your  uncle  because  father  asked  her  to 
do  so." 

That  statement  nigh  took  my  breath  away! 

Mrs.  Kingsley  going  as  suppliant  to  my  uncle  Deck? 
Judge  Zebulon  Kingsley  requesting  her  to  do  it?  I  shut 
my  eyes  and  could  picture  her — frail,  pale,  aristocratic. 
The  exigency  must  be  desperate  when  Judge  Kingsley 
would  submit  his  wife  to  such  employment. 

"But  please  keep  that  a  secret,"  she  pleaded. 

I  saw  that  I  was  headed  into  something  which  was 
bigger  and  more  baleful  than  I  had  dreamed  of.  And 
more  than  before  did  I  feel  my  deficiencies  as  a  fraud  who 
could  not  even  turn  a  trick  for  his  own  wants,  let  alone 
those  greater  affairs  in  Levant. 

"This  mystery  in  our  home  is  killing  us  all,"  she  went 
on.  "There  have  been  strangers  in  town  and  they  have 
been  much  with  my  father.  I  do  not  like  their  looks.  He 
would  not  tell  us,  but  I  am  afraid  they  have  coaxed  him 
away  to  the  city  on  this  trip  he  is  making.  Perhaps  your 
uncle  has  set  those  men  on  to  harm  him." 

I  had  never  gauged  my  uncle  Deck  as  a  hirer  of  assas- 

iii 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

sins,  but  I  had  not  seen  him  for  some  years,  and  I  ad- 
mitted to  myself  that  there  was  never  any  telling  where 
a  man's  grudge  would  lead  him. 

"Mother  and  I  tried  to  make  him  stay  at  home.  But 
he  would  not  stay  and  he  would  not  tell  us  why  he  was 
going  to  the  city.  Oh,  how  I  hate  those  strangers,  for  I 
believe  they  have  coaxed  him  away." 

I  looked  sideways  at  her,  and  a  little  shiver  tingled  in 
me.  There  was  real  venom  in  her  tone  and  I  saw  that  I 
had  not  guessed  the  depths  in  Miss  Celene  Kingsley. 

"I  wish  I  had  a  brother,"  she  mourned.  "I  believe 
he  would  feel  as  I  feel  now,  and  would  follow  up  and  kill 
the  man  who  would  harm  my  father." 

It  was  so  strange  an  utterance  from  a  girl  and  seemed 
so  contrary  to  what  I  had  supposed  her  nature  to  be  that 
I  remembered  that  outburst  for  a  long  time. 

I  juggled  the  skull  on  my  knee  and  pondered  awhile 
before  I  said  anything,  and  she  was  silent,  too,  evidently 
trying  to  get  control  of  her  emotions. 

"I  want  to  say  this  to  you,  Miss  Kingsley.  The  Sort- 
well  boys  gave  me  some  news  of  the  home  town  and  they 
told  me  that  my  uncle  was  after  your  father  in  bitter 
fashion.  That's  one  reason  why  I  have  hurried  up  here. 
I  don't  know  just  what  I  can  do  with  my  uncle,  but  I'll 
truly  do  my  best." 

We  had  come  into  the  edge  of  the  village  and  had 
passed  the  first  houses. 

"I  put  my  trust  in  you,"  she  said,  gently.  "I  always 
knew  you  had  good  impulses  in  you.  I  remember  our 
talk  that  day  on  Purgatory  Hill.  And  I  know  you  kept 
your  promise  you  gave  to  me  then.  You  did  your  best 
to  make  the  boys  good." 

"And  I'll  do  my  best  to  make  my  uncle  good." 

"I  do  hope  your  business  will  not  call  you  away  until 
you  have  straightened  matters  out.  Oh,  you  asked  about 
the  price  of  the  wood-lot !  Does  it  mean  that  you  expect 
to  have  some  business  with  father?" 

112 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  had  not  given  another  thought  to  the  wood-lot  since 
I  had  used  it  for  an  excuse  in  an  emergency.  I  did  not 
see  at  that  moment  how  I  could  use  a  wood-lot  for  any- 
thing else  than  that  excuse. 

"  If  only  you  could  have  some  business  with  my  father — 
it  would  smooth  things  so  much  for  all  of  us,  perhaps," 
she  pleaded. 

"We'll  see  what  can  be  done,"  I  assured  her.  "This 
syndicate — this  combination — a  very  large  concern,"  I 
floundered  on,  trying  to  think  up  some  sort  of  a  plausible 
lie  to  account  for  my  interest  in  a  wood-lot,  "it's — er — 
ah! — you  see,  I  can't  give  out  much  information  locally 
because  we  do  so  many  kinds  of  business — it's  all  linked 
up — it's  necessary  to  move  carefully,  but  I  think  I'll  tell 
you  this  much,  confidentially,  just  between  ourselves!" 
Again  my  hankering  to  have  some  sort  of  a  secret  between 
Celene  Kingsley  and  myself!  "One  branch  of  our  busi- 
ness is  building  all  the  tall  brick  chimneys  in  the  eastern 
part  of  the  country.  We  use  millions  of  bricks  and  so 
we  need  a  great  deal  of  wood  for  burning  the  bricks.  So 
that's  why,  maybe,  I  can  pay  your  father's  price  for  the 
wood-lot.  Now  you  understand!"  I  ended  up  with  a 
lot  of  relief,  for  I  had  to  dive  pretty  deep  for  that  lie. 

"I  do  see,  and  I'm  glad  there's  a  prospect  you'll 
stay  in  town.  And  then,  too,  there's  your  ankle  to 
nurse !' ' 

I  was  glad  she  mentioned  the  ankle,  for  I  had  forgotten 
all  about  it,  and  would  certainly  have  betrayed  myself 
when  I  jumped  out  of  the  carriage  at  the  tavern.  Really, 
to  be  a  good  liar  a  fellow  should  take  one  of  those  courses 
in  memory -training!  As  it  was,  I  descended  carefully 
and  promised  her  to  apply  cloths  and  liniment  that  night. 
She  tendered  her  little  hand,  and  I  pressed  it,  and  she 
left  with  me  the  memory  of  a  smile  which  was  like  a  rose 
gemmed  with  dew- — for  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes. 

I  waited  in  the  tavern  yard  till  she  was  well  on  her  way, 
and  then  I  marched  in  without  any  limp,  for  I  was  not 

"3 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

minded  to  keep  up  that  special  lie  for  the  benefit  of  all 
Levant. 

Dodovah  Vose  walked  behind  his  catty-cornered 
counter,  plucked  a  rusty  pen  from  its  potato  scabbard, 
whirled  the  register  around  under  my  nose,  and  tendered 
the  pen. 

"Rather  nippy  evenings,  though  pleasant  enough  day- 
times for  this  time  of  year,  Squire,"  he  said,  by  way  of 
welcome  to  the  arriving  guest. 

That  tickled  me.  He  didn't  recognize  me.  He  was 
looking  at  my  rig  rather  than  at  my  face.  When  I  had 
splashed  my  name  on  the  page  he  pulled  his  spectacles 
to  the  end  of  his  nose  and  inspected  the  signature.  Then 
he  snapped  upright  and  stared  at  me. 

"Godfrey  domino  Peter!"  he  bawled.  "Then  them 
Sortwell  boys  ain't  such  condemned  liars  as  I  suspected 
they  were !  When  Jod  wrote  me  that  you  had  quit  diving 
I  reckoned  you  had  gone  plunk  square  to  tophet!" 

"Oh,  there's  always  a  chance  for  a  fellow  in  the  city, 
if  he  keeps  hustling,"  I  told  him.  I  chinked  the  little 
handful  of  small  change  in  my  pocket.  "I'm  going  to 
stay  here  with  you  for  a  spell,  Mr.  Vose.  Have  you  a 
rule  that  guests  without  baggage  must  pay  in  advance?" 
I  grinned  and  he  took  it  as  a  great  joke. 

"If  you  can  tell  me  enough  about  Jod  I  may  adopt 
you  and  give  you  free  board  the  rest  of  your  life,"  he 
chuckled. 

Then  I  handed  over  his  present  with  a  word  of  ex- 
planation, and  he  unwrapped  the  grisly  object  and  sur- 
veyed it  with  as  much  satisfaction  as  if  it  had  been  a 
golden  nugget. 

"  Jod  always  knows  what  will  hit  me  to  a  T.  Of  course, 
he  says  to  you,  '  Tell  Dod  to  make  up  a  story  to  go  with 
it'!" 

"Exactly  what  he  said,  sir." 

"Sure!  That's  what  I  have  done  with  every  curio  he 
has  given  me." 

114 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

For  the  first  time  I  realized  that  in  my  boyhood  I  had 
accumulated  a  fine  line  of  fiction  from  Dodovah  Vose. 

But  I  forgave  him  in  my  thoughts,  for  he  took  me  into 
the  big  kitchen  and  fried  me  the  finest  chicken  I  ever  ate. 
And  while  he  fixed  up  my  supper  I  told  him  how  I  had 
learned  diving  with  his  brother.  I  comforted  him,  too, 
by  telling  him  that  I  had  given  up  the  work  only  tem- 
porarily. 

But  I  switched  him  when  he  tried  to  find  out  what  I 
was  up  to  at  that  time.  The  plug-hat  part  of  my  program 
seemed  to  puzzle  him  very  much.  I  was  not  ready  with 
any  good  explanation.  I  figured  that  I  might  have  some 
kind  of  a  story  ready  in  the  morning,  after  I  had  slept 
on  the  thing.  I  began  to  rely  considerably  on  my  work  as 
a  fabricator;  I  had  shown  quite  a  lot  of  aptitude  and 
readiness  on  short  notice,  I  reflected. 

I  found  myself  holding  an  impromptu  reception  in  the 
tavern  office  that  evening — and  they  were  all  there  with 
their  little  gimlets  of  questions,  boring  for  information, 
you  can  bet!  Therefore  I  broke  away  early  and  went 
to  bed.  I  staved  them  all  off  in  good  shape,  for  I  could 
be  dignified  in  those  clothes  I  was  wearing.  What  I  was 
afraid  of  was  that  Uncle  Deck  would  pop  in.  He  would 
not  have  used  any  gimlet;  he  would  have  set  upon  me 
with  a  pod-auger  of  inquisition,  and  would  have  ridden 
on  it  so  as  to  bear  down  hard!  And  I  had  not  my  story 
ready! 


XI 

THE   FAILURE   OF  AN   UNCLE-TAMER 

FURTHERMORE,  in  the  morning  I  was  just  as  much 
at  sea. 

I  had  gone  to  sleep  as  suddenly  as  if  somebody  had 
hit  me  a  tunk  on  the  head;  too  much  fried  chicken 
and  hashed  brown  potato !  I  did  not  wake  up  till  Dodo- 
vah  Vose  marched  through  the  tavern  halls,  playing  the 
long  roll  on  his  gong.  The  March  sun,  level  with  the 
eastern  windows,  quivered  with  glorious  light  when  I 
opened  my  eyes  on  it.  I  had  all  sorts  of  reasons  to  be 
downcast,  but  I  was  not  when  I  waked  and  saw  that  sun. 

Scattered  coins,  my  whole  capital,  lay  on  the  carpet 
of  braided  rags,  where  they  had  slipped  from  my  trousers 
pocket  the  night  before  when  I  hung  the  garment  over  a 
chair.  I  gazed  over  the  billowing  edge  of  the  feather  tick 
in  which  I  was  nested,  and  counted,  for  the  sun  lighted  the 
floor  and  glinted  on  the  coins.  One  dollar  and  thirty- 
seven  cents ! 

However,  in  spite  of  that  spectacle,  I  hopped  out  of 
bed  and  dressed,  whistling  snatches  of  tui\es  furnished 
by  music-hall  memories.  I  was  home  again,  Celene 
Kingsley  had  given  me  glances  which  my  hopes  trans- 
lated into  all  sorts  of  dear  promises — she  had  asked  me 
to  help  her;  the  sun  was  shining,  breakfast  was  ready! 
I  went  down-stairs  whistling. 

"Head  up  and  tail  over  the  dasher,  hey?"  was  the 
greeting  from  Landlord  Vose. 

"It's  a  great  world  to  live  in,"  I  told  him.  After 

116 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  had  tucked  away  a  slice  of  home-smoked  fried  ham  only 
a  little  smaller  than  a  door-mat,  along  with  eggs  and  the 
fixings,  I  felt  even  more  resolute  about  fronting  what 
was  coming  to  me. 

My  spirit  of  boldness  was  even  a  bit  hysterical,  I  guess. 
I  rubbed  the  nap  of  my  plug-hat  smooth  with  my  fore- 
arm, pulled  on  my  overcoat,  and  went  out  and  stood  on 
the  tavern  porch,  inhaling  the  tingling  air  of  the  morning, 
exhibiting  myself  to  Levant  like  a  gladiator  stepping 
into  the  arena,  announcing  by  pose  and  expression: 
"Here  I  am.  Now  come  on!" 

And  the  first  to  answer  my  challenge  was  my  uncle 
Deck.  I  think  he  had  been  waiting  for  me  to  appear. 
He  walked  across  the  village  square,  coming  from  the 
town  office,  and  I  hailed  him  from  afar  with  a  flourish 
of  the  hand  and  a  "Good  morning!" 

Ten  feet  away  he  stopped  and  looked  me  over.  "Why 
didn't  you  come  home  last  night,  where  you  belong,  in- 
stead of  putting  up  at  the  tavern  and  letting  me  hear  about 
it  by  word  of  mouth?" 

"Well,  Uncle  Deck,"  I  drawled,  "you  remember — " 

"Look  here,"  he  yapped,  "as  I  stand  here  I  don't 
know  whether  to  cuff  your  young  chops  or  shake  your 
hand.  A  good  deal  depends  on  you.  If  you  go  to  digging 
up  past  foolishness  I'll  cuff  you.  As  it  is" — he  stepped 
forward,  hand  outstretched — "as  it  is,  son,  I'm  glad  to 
see  you  back,  and  I  hear  that  you  have  made  something 
of  yourself.  I'm  glad  of  that,  too!  Now  get  your  volucus, 
or  whatever  your  baggage  is,  and  come  to  the  house." 

"I'll  tell  you,  Uncle  Deck,"  I  explained,  dropping  his 
hand  after  a  hearty  shake;  "I'm  here  on  business  this  trip, 
not  to  go  visiting." 

"What  difference  does  that  make  about  coming  to  my 
house,  where  you  belong?"  he  demanded. 

He  had  me  there — backed  into  a  corner!  He  had  his 
pod-auger  out,  ready  to  use  on  me,  just  as  I  had  appre- 
hended— and  so  help  me!  I  was  not  ready  with  a  story. 

117 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

"What  is  your  business?" 

Dignified  reserve  and  a  plug-hat  would  not  serve  to 
trig  my  uncle  Deck ! 

It  was  necessary  for  me  to  declare  then  and  there 
what  my  business  in  Levant  was.  I  had  been  clutching 
wildly  into  a  lot  of  nebulous  thoughts  ever  since  waking, 
trying  to  get  hold  of  something  solid. 

And  I  found  out  then,  as  I  had  experienced  before, 
and  discovered  on  many  occasions  later,  that  there  was 
in  me  something  which  enabled  me  to  leap  an  emergency 
barrier  when  the  goad  was  sharp  enough  and  the  danger 
near. 

"I've  got  to  have  dealings  with  a  lot  of  men  and  I'd 
be  a  nuisance  around  your  premises,  Uncle  Deck." 

"What  dealings?    No  secret,  is  it?" 

"  Certainly  not !  I'm  buying  for  a  big  syndicate.  Buy- 
ing standing  timber."  I  said  that  because  I  had  already 
committed  myself  with  Celene  Kingsley  and  it  came  to 
me  that  I'd  better  have  one  story  and  stick  to  it. 

"  All  right !    Buy  some  of  mine. ' ' 

"But  as  I  remember  it,  it's  mostly  black  growth — pine 
and  spruce." 

"Yes,  and  cedar,  fir,  and  hemlock!  What  in  thunder 
does  anybody  want  of  any  other  kind  of  timber?" 

"I  can't  use  it.    I'm  buying  for  a  special  purpose." 

I  felt  like  a  man  trying  to  get  across  a  brook  without 
wetting  his  feet.  Every  time  I  leaped  I  was  mighty  glad 
and  rather  surprised  to  find  another  stepping-stone  to 
land  on. 

"Then  you  must  be  looking  for  hardwood?" 

"That's  it." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it?" 

"Burn  bricks  for  our  factory  chimneys." 

He  did  not  look  more  than  half  convinced. 

"I  can't  go  into  details  even  with  you,  Uncle  Deck,"  I 
told  him.  "I'm  ordered  to  buy  close,  and  when  names  of 
big  concerns  are  given  out  the  sellers  always  raise  prices." 

118 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"There's  only  one  big  stand  of  hardwood  in  this  town," 
he  said,  "and  I'll  see  you  in  damnation  before  I'll  let 
you  buy  that!" 

"Why?" 

The  red  patches  beside  his  nose  began  to  flame.  "  Don't 
come  back  at  me  with  your  'whys'!  I'll  tell  you  why 
you  can't  buy!  It's  because  you'll  be  handing  over 
money  to  that" — (I  never  heard  coarser  oaths;  my  uncle 
fairly  choked  on  them) — "to  Zebulon  Kingsley." 

"I  know  the  lot  belongs  to  Judge  Kingsley.  I  saw  the 
sign  on  the  fence  and  I  happened  to  meet  the  judge  right 
there  and  had  some  talk  with  him." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  have  been  dickering 
with  that— " 

I  broke  in  on  his  list  of  names.  "My  concern  has  or- 
dered me  to  buy  hardwood  and  I'm  buying.  I  have  no 
quarrel  with  Judge  Kingsley." 

"By  the  Great  Jedux,  you  Jiave!  Don't  you  dare  to 
tell  me  you  have  forgotten !  You  have  got  a  quarrel  with 

him.  D n  you,  look  out  that  you  don't  start  one 

with  me!" 

"I  have  come  in  here  to  mind  my  own  business — " 

"Condemn  your  ha'slet!"  he  cried.  "No  wonder  you 
didn't  dare  to  come  to  my  house  last  night!  No  wonder 
you're  fighting  shy  of  me  to-day!" 

In  spite  of  his  anger,  I  felt  a  sudden  sense  of  relief. 
I  did  not  need  to  waste  effort  and  time  on  minor  false- 
hoods, trying  to  explain  why  I  did  not  come  to  his  house; 
I  could  devote  all  my  attention  to  my  main  lie. 

"I'm  not  fighting  shy  of  you,  Uncle  Deck.  I'm  a 
business  man,  and — ' 

He  turned  sideways  to  me  and  switched  his  arm  furi- 
ously, as  if  he  held  a  goad  and  was  trying  to  start  a  balky 
steer. 

"You  come  along  over  to  my  office,"  he  commanded 
with  a  grate  in  his  tones.  "This  isn't  a  matter  to  blart 
about  on  a  street  corner." 

9  119 


WHERE   YOUR  TREASURE   IS 

I  followed  him.    He  locked  the  door  behind  us. 

"You  know  that  I  have  been  elected  first  selectman  of 
this  town?" 

"Yes,  Uncle  Deck.    I'm  glad  the  citizens — " 

"Yah,  for  the  citizens!  First  and  last,  it  has  cost  me 
five  thousand  dollars  to  get  this  office.  And  it's  for  their 
own  good  I  worked  to  get  it — and  they  thought  it  was  only 
to  satisfy  my  grudge.  That's  all  the  credit  a  man  gets 
from  the  fools  who  vote.  But  I'm  in  this  office  now — 
I'm  headed  straight  for  my  mark — and  the  man  who  gets 
in  my  way  will  be  bored  like  a  cheese  target !  Do  you  hear 
that?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"They  know  enough  in  this  town  to  keep  out  of  my 
way!  I  have  trained  'em.  You  don't  dare  to  come 
back  here,  do  you — my  own  nephew — and  get  in  my 
way?" 

"I'm  only  attending  to  my  business." 

"Meaning  by  that  you're  thinking  of  buying  a  wood- 
lot  from  Zebulon  Kingsley?" 

Secretly  I  was  sort  of  laughing  at  myself.  Here  I  was, 
inviting  a  lot  of  trouble  by  insisting  on  doing  something 
which  was  a  positive  impossibility,  so  it  seemed  then  as  I 
jingled  my  coins  in  my  pocket. 

"I  have  my  business  the  same  as  you  have  yours,  sir. 
I  didn't  know— " 

"You  did  know!"  he  shouted.  "And  if  you  are  such 
a  renegade  as  to  forget  what  has  been  done  to  your  family 
by  that  skunk,  you  know  now — for  I'm  telling  you!  You 
can't  do  business  with  Zebulon  Kingsley.  I  say  it!"  He 
pounded  his  fist  on  his  breast. 

I  kept  still.  I  was  trying  to  work  out  in  my  mind 
some  sensible  idea  as  to  what  I  really  did  intend  to  do  in 
the  matter  of  that  wood-lot. 

My  uncle  leaned  toward  me  over  the  table  in  the  town 
office,  propping  himself  on  one  fist  and  pounding  softly 
and  slowly  with  the  other.  His  lips  were  rolled  back  and 

120 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

he  growled  his  words  deep  down  in  his  throat,  almost 
in  a  whisper. 

"I  know  what  he  is,  now.  I've  got  the  stuff  on  him. 
I've  had  to  work  slow.  I've  had  to  convince  two  devilish 
steers  on  the  board  of  selectmen  without  telling  'em  what 
I'm  after.  But  I've  got  'em.  And  he  is  headed  for  hell 
and  I'm  after  him.  And  he  knows  it  now  and  that's  the 
best  of  it!  Because  I'm  taking  my  time  while  he  is  think- 
ing it  over!  Oh,  my  gad!  if  only  your  father  could  have 
lived  till  now  to  see  how  the  devilish  old  gouger  and  robber 
is  getting  his!  And  he  is  paying  for  your  mother's  tears 
and  sweat  with  drops  of  his  blood.  And  he  is  paying  me, 
too.  I  stay  up  nights  to  see  that  lamp  in  his  office  win- 
dow. And  you  say,  do  you,  that  you  have  come  here  to 
hand  over  money  to  Zebulon  Kingsley?  To  the  man  who 
filed  your  father's  heart  in  two  with  a  mortgage?" 

"It's  only  in  the  way  of  ordinary  trade,"  I  ventured. 
I  was  wondering  why  I  was  continuing  to  provoke  my 
uncle.  But  I  knew  I  needed  to  start  considerable  of  a 
smoke  to  screen  my  real  condition  from  him. 

"There  is  to  be  no  trade  between  you,"  raged  my  uncle. 
"No  money  from  you  shall  touch  that  scoundrel's  hands!" 
Just  at  that  moment  I  was  more  sure  of  that  than  he  was. 

My  uncle  gave  me  a  little  opportunity  to  do  some 
thinking,  for  he  went  to  the  office  safe  and  pulled  out  a 
bottle  and  drank. 

I  wondered  what  kind  of  a  hold  he  had  on  Judge  Kings- 
ley.  My  curiosity  was  aflame.  It  was  not  believable 
that  he  could  ruin  the  judge  financially,  for  the  Kingsleys 
had  possessed  wealth  for  many  generations.  Celene 
Kingsley,  as  the  petted  daughter  of  our  village  aristocrat, 
was  too  far  above  me  for  any  hopes  to  bear  fruit,  even 
though  they  budded.  But  what  would  the  Kingsleys  be 
after  my  uncle  had  worked  out  his  revenge,  of  whose 
success  he  seemed  to  be  so  sure? 

"I  know  there  has  been  trouble  between  the  families, 
Uncle  Deck,"  I  said.  "I  know  we  were  not  used  right 

121 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

in  money  matters.  But  what  is  it  you're  going  to  do  to 
Judge  Kingsley?  What  is  your  grip  on  him?" 

He  wiped  his  mouth  with  the  palm  of  his  hand  and  set 
back  the  bottle.  "None  of  your  d d  business!" 

"I  don't  like  to  go  into  anything  blindfolded.  I 
have  business  to  consider,  and  I'll  have  to  make  ex- 
planations." 

"You'll  get  off  better  by  making  'em  to  the  men  who 
have  hired  you  than  by  explaining  to  me,  if  you  don't  do 
what  I  tell  you  to  do." 

"But  I'm  no  kid  any  longer.  I'm  running  my  own 
affairs,  sir.  If  you  can't  let  me  in  on  the  plans  of  this 
thing—" 

He  advanced  on  me,  waggling  his  fist.  "You're  a  devil 
of  a  fellow  to  come  and  pump  me  for  secrets,  you  are! 
What  do  you  want  to  do — run  to  him  again  like  you  did 
in  the  case  of  that  hoss  trade?  Do  you  think  I  have 
forgotten  that?" 

"No,  and  I  know  you  never  will,  sir." 

"And  so  I  say  now,  ask  no  questions  and  do  as  I  tell 
you." 

I  edged  toward  the  door,  for  I  was  pretty  well  mixed 
up  in  my  own  thoughts  and  did  not  care  to  get  into  any 
more  of  a  row  with  my  uncle — and  all  needlessly. 

"Are  you  giving  me  your  word?"  he  demanded. 

"I'm  not  promising  anything  until  I  can  think  it  over 
and  decide  on  what's  best  to  be  done,  Uncle  Deck." 

"You'll  decide  now  before  you  leave  this  office." 

He  started  toward  me,  but  the  key  was  in  the  door,  and 
I  turned  it  and  stood  ready  to  leave. 

"You  have  come  back  here  to  fight  me,  have  you? 
A  Sidney  fighting  his  own  and  nearest  blood  kin,  eh?" 

He  came  close  and  made  threatening  gestures.  I  put 
my  arm  across  his  breast  and  slowly  pushed  him  back; 
I  gave  him  good  opportunity  to  note  that  the  arm  was  a 
.sizable  one  and  mighty  hard. 

"You  plug-hatted  dude!"  he  frothed.  "Forgetting  the 

122 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

duty  you  owe  to  your  own  because  you  have  had  a  whirl 
in  the  city!" 

"I  am  no  dude,  Uncle  Deck,  and  calling  me  names  and 
treating  me  like  a  brat,  as  you  used  to  do,  isn't  going  to 
get  you  anything!" 

"You  are  not  standing  with  your  own  family." 

"I  can  be  loyal  to  my  family,  but  I'm  not  going  to 
shut  my  eyes  and  jump  into  a  row  just  because  you  tell 
me  it's  your  row." 

I  saw  that  I  had  produced  an  impression  and  he  calmed 
down  a  bit. 

"There  may  be  a  good  deal  you  can  do  to  help  me  in 
the  thing,"  he  said.  "But,  blast  it!  after  what  you  once 
did  to  me,  I  ain't  sure  I  can  trust  you!"  He  squinted  his 
eyes  and  sized  me  up  shrewdly.  "You're  a  Sidney,  and 
the  old  rat  did  dirt  to  you  before  you  left  this  town.  If 
you  ain't  willing  to  rise  up  now  and  swoop  on  him,  there's 
a  reason.  You  ain't  stuck  on  that  girl  of  his,  are  you?" 

The  blood  surged  into  my  face.  I  couldn't  help  it.  I 
was  thinking  hard  about  her  all  through  that  talk.  That 
was  the  last  thing  I  would  have  looked  for  from  my  uncle. 
He  had  jumped  me  in  fine  shape,  and  he  saw  it. 

"Yah-h-h!"  he  snarled.  "You  fool!  You  devilish  fool! 
It  had  to  be  a  girl  to  keep  you  from  doing  your  plain  duty — 
and  I  knew  it.  Nothing  but  a  girl  would  be  putting  a 
twist-bit  into  your  mouth  right  now!" 

"You're  wrong!  You're  all  wrong!"  I  protested,  but 
I  didn't  sound  real  convincing. 

Nor  did  he,  either,  when  he  started  to  give  me  hints 
about  her.  His  eyes  shifted  and  he  stammered.  I  took 
him  by  the  arm  with  a  good,  hearty  clutch  and  he  shut  up. 

There  did  not  seem  to  be  anything  more  to  say  just 
then,  on  the  part  of  either  of  us;  plainly,  we  had  squared 
off  at  each  other! 

So  I  walked  out. 

I  was  glad  because  my  first  session  with  my  uncle  was 
over.  But  while  I  felt  relief  I  knew  I  had  pretty  well 

123 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

done  for  myself  where  he  was  concerned.  Of  course,  I 
had  not  intended  to  confess  to  him  my  financial  condition, 
but  deep  down  I  had  felt  until  then  that  if  worse  came 
to  the  worst  he  would  see  me  out  of  a  hole.  He  would 
have  done  something,  at  least,  for  my  father's  sake.  But 
I  had  been  the  one  to  deal  family  loyalty  the  first  kick. 
Now  my  uncle  would  see  me  starve  and  enjoy  my  suffer- 
ings; his  grudges  followed  just  such  grooves. 

Whatever  else  was  ahead,  it  was  pretty  much  up  to  me ! 

I  went  back  to  the  tavern,  for  it  was  some  comfort  just 
to  look  on  Dodovah  Vose's  kindly  face. 

" Let's  see!  You've  been  dropping  a  word  or  two  about 
doing  business  here,"  he  prodded  in  friendly  fashion. 
"Hope  so.  It's  quiet  in  town.  We're  all  climbing  ' March 
Hill,'  you  know — dull  time  in  the  country." 

"I'm  here  to  start  something,  sir."  I  was  telling  him 
the  truth  then.  I  had  just  started  something  over  in  the 
town  office.  I  sat  down  and  picked  up  a  newspaper  from 
the  table  and  began  to  show  great  interest  in  reading  so 
that  I  would  not  be  obliged  to  talk.  I  was  afraid  he 
would  get  me  cornered.  I  hung  onto  that  paper  as  if  it 
were  a  life-buoy — I  read  it  from  title  to  last  line,  adver- 
tisements and  all.  It  was  the  Mechanicsville  Herald, 
printed  in  a  manufacturing  city  about  thirty  miles  from 
Levant,  and  because  I  did  not  miss  anything  which  was 
printed  in  it  I  noted  that  two  concerns  wanted  cord- 
wood — and  I  had  just  mentioned  the  matter  of  cord-wood 
to  my  uncle.  At  all  events,  I  was  traveling  on  a  single- 
track  lie  in  old  Levant! 

I  laid  down  that  paper  and  did  some  mighty  lively 
thinking.  Then,  to  reassure  myself,  I  gave  my  silk  hat 
the  least  bit  of  a  cock  and  marched  to  Judge  Kingsley's 
mansion. 

Celene  herself  opened  the  door  so  promptly  after  my 
ring  that  I  had  a  cozy  little  suspicion  that  she  had  seen 
me  coming  and  had  hurried  to  meet  me.  She  was  very 
pretty  in  her  morning  gown. 

124 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

"Oh,  your  ankle  is  so  much  better,  isn't  it?"  she  cried. 
"I  watched  you  coming  across  the  square." 

She  stepped  back,  inviting  me  to  enter  by  her  manner, 
and  I  walked  in. 

"I  knew  just  what  to  do  for  it.  It's  pretty  nigh  all 
right." 

She  led  me  to  the  sitting-room,  and  her  mother  rose 
and  met  me;  Mrs.  Kingsley  was  distantly  polite,  that 
was  all.  I  was  glad  even  for  that  much  in  the  case  of  a 
Sidney,  for  I  knew  that  Judge  Kingsley's  obedient  wife 
was  as  careful  in  matching  her  opinions  to  his  as  she  was 
in  matching  colors  at  the  store. 

"I  ask  to  be  excused  for  calling  so  early  in  the  day," 
I  said,  with  my  hat  in  the  hook  of  my  arm,  and 
putting  on  my  best  manners.  "But  this  is  a  business 
call  and  I'm  in  somewhat  of  a  hurry.  You  heard  me 
speak  to  your  father,  Miss  Kingsley,  about  the  wood-lot. 
Now—" 

"I  never  presume  to  interfere  in  my  husband's  business 
matters,"  said  Mrs.  Kingsley,  looking  half  scared.  "I 
know  nothing  whatever  about  his  business." 

"Oh,  I  am  not  asking  you  to  do  so — certainly  not,"  I 
hurried  to  tell  her.  "I  shall  do  all  my  business  directly 
with  him.  But  to  do  so  I  need  his  address  in  the  city. 
I  have  come  to  ask  you  for  it.  I  suppose  he  left  it." 

"Oh  yes — so  that  I  may  send  his  mail."  She  looked 
relieved  and  gave  me  the  name  of  a  hotel. 

I  had  not  presumed  to  sit  down,  though  I  was  sure  that 
Celene's  eyes  had  asked  me.  I  bowed  and  backed  toward 
the  door. 

"I  thank  you.  That's  all  I  wanted.  I  am  sorry  I  was 
obliged  to  intrude."  I  felt  that  I  was  certainly  doing  that 
little  thing  well.  ."I  may  be  obliged  to  call  again,  if  you 
will  allow  me." 

Mrs.  Kingsley  hesitated. 

"Of  course  you  may  call,"  blurted  Celene. 

"I  may  have  to  consult  with  you  in  a  matter  similar  to 

125 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

this  errand  to-day,"  I  explained.    "I'm  sorry  the  judge  is 
not  here;  in  that  case  I  would  not  be  bothering  you." 

"I  tried  to  prevail  on  my  husband  to  stay  at  home — 
he  is  not  at  all  well — there  are  so  many  matters  which 
need  his  attention  here,"  complained  Mrs.  Kmgsley.  "If 
we  can  help  you  with  any  information  we'll  be  glad  to 
doit." 

I  went  away  on  that,  and  I  guess  I  left  a  good  impres- 
sion that  I  was  strictly  business ! 

Feeling  sure  that  the  two  of  them  were  watching  me,  I 
put  a  lot  of  business  snap  into  my  gait  when  I  returned 
to  the  tavern. 

"Mr.  Vose,"  I  asked,  briskly,  "how  many  hitches  have 
you  in  your  livery-stable?" 

"Eight,"  he  said,  "if  I  include  two  road-carts." 

"The  road-carts  are  all  right,  too.  I  want  to  use  all 
of  'em,  if  you  can  furnish  drivers." 

"It's  easy  enough  to  find  men  in  these  slack  times." 

"And  probably  farmers  and  day's-work  men  in  the 
back  districts  of  the  town  would  like  a  job." 

"You  can  bet  on  it!" 

"Start  eight  men  going,  then,  as  soon  as  you  can  get  the 
horses  hitched  in.  Have  the  messengers  pass  the  word 
that  I  can  use  two  hundred  husky  men.  Each  man  to 
report  here  in  the  tavern  yard  to-morrow  morning  at  six- 
thirty  with  a  sharp  ax  on  his  shoulder." 

"And  what  else — tell  'em  what  else?" 

"Nothing." 

"But  about  wages — and  what  they're  to  do?" 

"Tell  'em  nothing.  They'll  come  running  in  here  to 
find  out  what  it's  all  about,  Mr.  Vose.  Don't  even 
tell  'em  who  wants  'em.  You  and  I  both  know  how 
curiosity  itches  in  this  town  till  it  has  been  properly 
scratched." 

"Guess  you're  right,"  agreed  the  landlord.  " If  you  set 
out  to  hire  'em  regular  style  they'd  want  to  hem  and  haw 
and  haggle  about  so  long  and  so  much!" 

126 


WHERE  YOUR  TREASURE   IS 

"If  you  want  a  deposit  for — "  I  suggested,  reaching 
toward  a  breast  pocket  which  was  empty. 

"Godfrey  domino,  no!"  he  protested,  flapping  his 
hands.  "If  you  have  had  to  handle  business  in  those 
suspicious  ways  down  in  the  city  I'm  sorry  for  you.  Now 
forget  money  talk  between  us  till  it's  time  to  talk." 

I  was  glad  to  do  that,  and  I  hoped  that  his  ideas  of 
time  were  liberal. 

I  borrowed  some  blank  paper  and  went  up  to  my  room 
and  figured  for  many  hours,  stopping  only  to  eat  a  good 
dinner — a  boiled  dinner  in  Vose's  best  style.  My  plate 
was  piled  high  twice  with  corned  beef  fringed  with  golden 
fat,  succulent  disks  of  yellow  carrots,  wine-red  beets, 
snowy  white  spuds,  and  odorous  turnips.  No  man  could 
possibly  be  a  pessimist  with  that  dinner  under  his  belt! 
I  had  every  reason  to  be  the  most  apprehensive  man  in 
Avon  County,  but  I  had  set  my  face  to  the  front  and  I 
had  just  naturally  made  up  my  mind  that  I  was  going 
to  pay  for  that  dinner  and  for  the  other  things  which  I 
had  been  recklessly  ordering.  I  proposed  to  put  myself 
into  a  position  where  I  would  be  compelled  to  use  every 
bit  of  my  capital  of  cheek.  The  sweat  stood  out  on  my 
forehead,  but  it  wasn't  the  kind  of  moisture  which  could 
soften  my  grit. 

In  the  afternoon,  every  time  a  steaming  horse  came 
homing  back  to  Vose's  stable,  I  felt  a  funny  quiver  inside 
me. 

"  I  reckon  you  have  got  a  good  line  on  human  nature, 
young  Sidney,"  stated  the  landlord,  when  I  went  down  to 
the  foreroom  before  supper.  "From  what  the  men  say 
this  rushing  around  back  districts  with  teams  has  got  the 
boys  all  heifered  up.  Even  if  they  don't  come  in  to  go  to 
work,  they'll  be  here  to  see  what  in  tunket  the  hoorah's 
about." 

"  I  have  heard  my  father  say  that  this  town  was  always 
ready  to  turn  out  to  a  bee,"  I  told  him.  When  I  said  it 
another  thought  came  to  cheer  me — I  had  noticed  that 

127 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

when  a  lot  of  men  were  set  at  work  together  on  one  job 
the  natural  spirit  of  rivalry  put  pep  into  the  bunch. 

When  Dodovah  Vose  went  to  his  kitchen  to  give  an 
eye  to  supper,  I  plucked  a  telegraph  blank  from  his  office 
desk.  I  nerved  myself  to  try  on  my  most  audacious 
trick  of  all.  I  wrote  this: 

To  Ross  Sidney,  Levant. — Offer  accepted.  Go  ahead  with  work. 
Will  settle  with  you  on  my  return. 

Z.   KINGSLEY. 

I  set  my  jaws  and  told  myself  that  the  message  wasn't 
all  falsehood;  the  last  sentence  was  strictly  true,  even 
if  Zebulon  Kingsley  did  not  pen  it. 

I  folded  the  paper,  stuck  it  in  my  pocket,  and  went 
again  to  the  Kingsley  house.  It  was  brazen  business — a 
dangerous  hazard.  But  I  was  depending  on  woman's 
inadequacy.  I  felt  that  I  had  the  two  of  them  sized 
pretty  well.  They  had  never  presumed  to  meddle  in 
the  affairs  of  their  master.  They  would  not  dare  to 
question  his  will.  I  figured  that  sending  him  a  wire 
asking  corroboration  of  the  message  to  me  would  seem 
to  them  like  bold  interference  which  would  bring  reproof 
from  him. 

I  waited,  respectfully  standing,  while  they  read  the 
message,  Celene  looking  over  her  mother's  shoulder. 

"It's  more  about  the  wood-lot  matter,"  I  explained. 
"I  think  you  heard  your  father  make  me  a  price  on  it. 
Miss  Kingsley." 

"I  remember  distinctly,  mother.  Father  said  he  would 
sell  for  two  thousand  dollars." 

"I  know  it  must  seem  rather  irregular,"  I  said,  "but 
in  my  wire  I  explained  that  my  people  are  in  a  great 
hurry — and  I'm  glad  that  he  has  been  willing  to  meet  me 
half-way.  It  means  that  I  am  to  put  on  a  crew  at  once 
and  cut  the  wood — and,  of  course,  it's  a  safe  proposition 
for  the  judge,"  I  went  on,  forcing  the  best  smile  I  could. 
"Neither  the  land  nor  the  wood  can  be  carried  away  in 

128 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

a  shawl-strap  before  he  returns — I  think  he  said  in  a  week 
or  ten  days!" 

They  returned  my  smile,  and  for  the  first  time  Mrs. 
Kingsley  seemed  rather  cordial. 

"I'm  glad  you  are  taking  it  off  his  hands,"  she  declared. 
"  It  will  be  one  less  thing  for  him  to  worry  about.  He  has 
been  so  troubled  by  his  business.  I'm  sure  that  he'll  be 
glad  to  get  rid  of  a  lot  more  property  in  the  same  way." 

My  soul  whispered  its  doubts! 

"I  hope  that  the  matter  is  all  clear  now  and  that  you 
have  a  good  understanding,  Mrs.  Kingsley.  You  will 
explain,  will  you,  if  anybody  comes  to  you  in  regard  to 
the  matter  or  questions  my  authority?" 

"I  will,  Mr.  Sidney." 

She  exchanged  glances  with  her  daughter  and  they 
seemed  to  understand  each  other  quickly.  While  we  had 
been  talking  I  heard  the  subdued  clatter  of  supper  prepa- 
rations in  another  room. 

"I  feel  sure  that  if  my  husband  were  here,"  said  Mrs. 
Kingsley,  "he  would  extend  the  hospitality  of  our  house 
to  a  gentleman  who  was  obliging  him  in  a  business  matter. 
Won't  you  stay  and  take  supper  with  us,  Mr.  Sidney?" 

Without  replying,  I  gave  my  hat  into  the  ready  hands 
of  Celene  and  sat  down  weakly. 

I  was  tickled  nigh  foolish — I'll  admit  that.  But  I  was 
not  wholly  taken  in  by  that  hospitality  play.  Mrs. 
Zebulon  Kingsley  had  known  too  much  about  me  and 
my  breed  to  feel  any  great  hankering  to  have  me  as  a 
guest.  But  I  was  willing  to  bet  a  big  plum  that  she  was 
thinking  a  lot  about  my  uncle's  hostility  and  about  the 
judge's  fear  of  that  rambunctious  town  official.  And  I 
was  also  sure  that  certain  matters  had  been  talked  over 
between  her  and  Celene  since  my  arrival  in  town  with 
such  outward  emblems  of  importance  and  prosperity. 
Furthermore,  had  I  not  fairly  promised  the  daughter  that 
I  would  do  my  best  in  the  line  of  uncle-busting? 

So  I  held  on  to  my  emotions  as  best  I  could  and  waited 

129 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

for  the  subject  to  come  up.  It  did,  of  course.  I  had  not 
been  in  the  house  ten  minutes  before  Mrs.  Kingsley  burst 
out.  She  was  full  of  that  topic.  She  saw  in  my  uncle's 
attitude  nothing  but  a  wanton  desire  to  make  trouble  for 
a  good  and  great  man. 

I  had  been  thinking  over  the  matter  of  that  hostility 
since  my  morning's  talk  with  Uncle  Deck.  I  had  been 
developing  a  sharp-ended  suspicion  that  my  uncle  had 
something  up  his  sleeve  with  which  to  arm  that  hostility. 
Judge  Kingsley  would  never  have  pulled  his  wife  into  a 
row  he  was  having  with  Decker  Sidney  unless  desperation 
had  moved  him.  I  was  bitterly  ashamed  and  grieved 
when  I  listened  to  her  description  of  that  unutterable 
interview. 

As  for  her,  she  had  no  suspicions  as  to  her  husband's 
integrity — I  could  see  that!  The  picture  she  made  of 
the  affair  was  of  a  mad  dog  chasing  a  saint ! 

"But  what  does  the  man  think  he  can  do  to  my  hus- 
band? He  can  do  nothing.  He  must  realize  it.  What 
has  he  said  to  you,  Mr.  Sidney?  I  ask  you,  for  I  am  sure 
you  do  not  approve  his  actions." 

I  looked  at  Celene,  and  answered  that  I  certainly  did 
not  approve,  nor  had  I  ever  approved  many  things  my 
uncle  did. 

"I  will  say  further  that  I  did  what  I  could  to-day  to 
turn  him  from  his  grudge." 

"But  what  does  he  think  he  can  do  to  my  husband?" 
she  insisted.  "I  suppose  he  told  you." 

"No,  he  did  not,  madam.  He  said  he  did  not  trust 
me.  He  twitted  me  with  having  betrayed  him  once 
before  to  the  judge — about  the  doctored  horse,"  I  added, 
with  a  sickly  grin. 

"But,  of  course,  you — his  own  nephew — you  produced 
some  effect  on  him?" 

"Yes,  I  made  him  so  mad  he  would  have  struck  me 
if  he  had  dared.  That's  all  the  effect  I  seemed  to 
produce." 

130 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

Tears  came  into  her  eyes.  "How  will  it  end?"  she 
quavered. 

I  did  not  feel  like  bragging  just  then  about  any  powers 
of  mine  in  the  matter;  I  had  plenty  on  my  mind  and 
conscience  as  it  was.  I  was  distinctly  aware  of  being 
glad  I  had  had  that  boiled  dinner,  and  plenty  of  it,  and 
I  say  that  much  with  all  due  respect  for  the  blessed  pres- 
ence of  Celene  at  the  supper-board.  For  between  my  ever- 
swelling  love  for  her,  my  self -consciousness  at  table,  my 
shame  on  account  of  my  uncle,  and  my  general  emotions, 
anyway,  I  could  scarcely  choke  down  a  mouthful.  And 
at  the  end  I  was  wholly  and  fairly  rattled — that  expression 
seems  to  fit  my  state  of  mind  better  than  anything  I  can 
think  of  right  now. 

She  accompanied  me  to  the  door  that  evening  when  I 
departed — Mrs.  Kingsley  allowed  her  to  go  alone,  evi- 
dently having  elevated  me  to  the  plane  of,  at  least,  a 
buttonhole  friend  of  the  family  after  hearing  of  my  quarrel 
with  my  uncle. 

And  being  rattled,  and  seeing  the  grieved  anxiety  in  her 
eyes,  and  knowing  how  much  distress  must  be  tearing  at 
her  poor  heart,  I  gulped  out  that  I  would  put  my  uncle 
where  he  belonged.  I  was  saying  to  myself  that  I  would 
see  him  in  tophet  before  I'd  allow  his  persecution  to  harm 
those  innocent  women,  and  I  came  nigh  saying  that  to  her 
in  my  excitement. 

She  put  out  to  me  both  of  her  hands,  and  I  took  them. 
I  tossed  all  prudence  over  the  rail  then. 

"  If  there's  got  to  be  a  fight  in  the  Sidney  family,  then 
there'll  be  one!  You  tell  your  mother  to  sleep  easy. 
I'll  take  this  thing  in  hand  from  now  on  and  I  won't 
have  your  father  abused  by  anybody." 

I  was  talking  as  big  as  old  Lord  Argyle,  and  I  knew  I 
was  babbling  like  a  fool — but  what  can't  a  girl's  wet  eyes 
do  to  a  fellow's  common  sense? 

"We  trust  you,"  she  said.  "You  have  made  me  so 
happy!" 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

I  bent  down  and  kissed  her  dear  hands,  first  one  and 
then  the  other.  When  I  straightened  up  and  saw  the 
flush  on  her  cheeks  and  the  shy  pleasure  in  her  eyes  I 
went  the  limit  without  stopping  to  take  thought.  I  put 
my  arms  around  her  and  kissed  her  on  the  lips — and  no 
honest  man  can  look  me  squarely  in  the  eye  and  tell 
me  there's  any  memory  like  the  remembrance  of  the  first 
kiss  from  one's  own  true  love!  For  the  first  true  love  is 
not  merely  maiden — she  has  elements  of  the  goddess  in  her ! 

Therefore,  having  presumed  so  much  with  a  goddess,  I 
was  immediately  frightened  and  found  myself  ready  to 
struggle  with  apology — and  apology  did  not  fit  that 
occasion.  So  I  ran  away  before  I  made  more  of  a  fool 
of  myself. 

" Good  night !"  I  whispered  from  the  gate.   "I  love  you !" 

She  closed  the  big  door  very  softly  and  I  gathered  good 
omen  from  that. 

How  bright  the  stars  were  when  I  looked  at  them 
through  my  tears!  A  half-century  ago  a  Yankee  poet 
wrote  these  verses  when  he  was  in  love: 

When  twilight's  sable  curtain  falls, 

Then  stars  stand  thick  at  even 
To  act  as  outside  sentinels 

Around  the  gates  of  heaven. 
That  night  along  the  shimmering  slant, 

(I  tell  you  true,  my  brother) 
The  password  was  "Almira  Grant" 

They  whispered  to  each  other. 

I  knew  mighty  well  what  was  their  password  that 
March  night  when  I  walked  away  from  Celene. 

I  was  not  fit  for  any  tavern  society  just  then.  Impulse 
seized  upon  me  and  I  went  down  into  the  orchard.  True 
love  does  not  forget  his  trails  and  his  caches !  I  found  the 
tree  with  the  hollow  trunk  and  slipped  my  hand  into 
the  hole;  I  pulled  forth  the  little  packet  of  three  rings. 
I  reckoned  that  when  I  got  my  courage  and  my  voice  I 
would  have  a  story  to  tell  her — some  evidence  of  love  long- 

132 


WHERE   YOUR  TREASURE    IS 

standing  to  offer — and  that  I'd  find  those  rings  pretty 
valuable  as  exhibits  A,  B,  and  C. 

There  were  quite  a  number  of  gossiping  loafers  in  the 
tavern  foreroom  when  I  marched  in  at  last  and  took  my 
room  key  from  its  hook. 

If  there  had  been  any  doubt  among  them  as  to  my 
importance  in  the  world,  that  doubt  must  have  vanished 
when  they  looked  on  me  that  night;  for  if  I  did  not  feel 
at  that  moment  that  the  world  was  mine,  nobody  ever  did ! 


xn 

STARTING   SOMETHING   IN   LEVANT 

THE  men  were  there  in  the  morning — a  mob  of  them. 
They  came  riding  and  they  footed  it  into  the  village. 
The  tavern  office  was  crowded  and  the  yard  was  full. 

The  growing  buzz  of  them  woke  me  before  sunup,  and 
I  wasted  no  time  in  dressing  and  getting  down. 

It  was  just  as  I  had  expected — the  spirit  of  a  lark  was  in 
them.  They  were  not  like  men  who  had  come  dragging 
themselves  to  work.  The  men  I  knew — and  I  knew  a  lot 
of  them  on  account  of  my  early  goings  and  comings 
about  the  countryside  on  my  uncle's  affairs — were  on 
my  back  in  a  moment,  their  mouths  full  of  questions. 

But  I  was  not  ready  to  talk  turkey  till  I  had  settled 
on  one  point,  and  I  told  them  to  be  easy  for  a  few  minutes. 

I  needed  one  man  for  a  special  purpose.  I  had  left  the 
selection  of  that  man  for  morning,  feeling  instinctively 
that  I  would  do  better  to  pick  from  the  crowd  than  to 
give  away  my  plans  overnight. 

I  saw  him  inside  of  ten  seconds.  It  was  as  clear  a  case 
of  the  right  man  for  the  job  as  if  I  had  specified  and  had 
received  the  goods. 

The  man  was  Henshaw  Hook,  the  best-known  man  in 
that  section,  the  town  auctioneer.  He  had  the  gift  of 
gab,  the  science  of  talking  all  men  into  good  humor, 
and  was  as  alert  in  all  his  doings  as  a  cricket  on  a  hot 
spider. 

I  took  him  by  the  arm  and  rushed  him  up  to  my  room. 
Mr.  Hook  had  brought  no  ax  to  the  levee;  he  told  me, 

i34 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

by  way  of  explanation,  that  he  had  come  around  out  of 
curiosity.    So  had  a  lot  of  others,  I  knew  well  enough. 

Dodovah  Vose  followed  us,  for  I  had  summoned  him 
by  a  jerk  of  my  head. 

"Now,  Mr.  Hook,  here's  the  story  short  and  snappy," 
I  told  him.  "I  represent  a  big  syndicate  which  is  buying 
all  kinds  of  property.  I  have  bought  Judge  Kingsley's 
wood-lot  for  the  sake  of  what  is  on  it — and  it  must  be 
cleaned  off  in  a  hurry.  Of  course,  I  can't  hang  around 
town  to  attend  to  that  part  of  the  business.  I  need  an 
able  man  who  can  attend  to  it."  I  pulled  out  my  papers 
and  inspected  my  figures.  "Mostly  we  are  after  hard- 
wood— cord-wood!  Do  you  suppose  you  can  pull  a 
hundred  or  so  good  workers  out  of  that  crowd  down- 
stairs?" 

"Yep!"  snapped  Hook.    "Mebbemore." 

He  was  just  as  brisk  as  I  was. 

The  newspaper  had  given  me  quotations  in  its  market 
column,  and  I  had  chopped  cord-wood  in  my  own  young 
life.  Furthermore,  in  my  everlasting  scurryings  after 
squirrels  and  birds  I  had  made  many  explorations  on 
Judge  Kingsley's  domains.  I  was  fully  prepared  to  talk 
business,  therefore. 

"Mr.  Hook,  green  cord-wood  is  selling  for  five  dollars 
a  cord.  It's  a  poor  man  with  an  ax  who  can't  chop,  trim, 
and  pile  his  cord  a  day — four-foot  length.  If  you  can  put 
two  hundred  men  on  that  job  and  will  abide  by  the  rules 
of  my  syndicate,  you  can  turn  a  profit  of  around  fifty 
dollars  a  day  for  your  own  pocket — for  I  offer  you  five 
per  cent,  on  five  dollars  a  cord." 

Mr.  Hook  promptly  showed  much  interest.  "You  said 
rules?" 

" I  said  rules!'- 

"Spill,"  invited  Mr.  Hook. 

"Get  out  your  pencil  and  make  notes — and  I'll  ask 
you  to  do  the  same,  Mr.  Vose,  so  that  there'll  be  no  come- 
back!" 

10  135 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

They  obeyed  promptly. 

"I  am  to  do  all  my  business  with  you — you  are  to 
do  all  the  business  with  the  choppers.  You  are  the 
responsible  party  in  all  the  details.  You  are  to  keep  the 
books,  measuring  each  man's  daily  cut  and  giving  him 
due  credit.  He  is  to  be  paid  two  dollars  and  fifty  cents  a 
cord — a  weekly  bonus  of  twenty-five  dollars  to  the  man 
who  comes  across  with  the  most  cords!  No  payment  to 
be  made  for  two  weeks  and  then  one  week's  pay  will  be 
held  back  so  that  the  men  will  not  quit  on  me." 

"Don't  know  about  their  agreeing!" 

"Then  the  syndicate  doesn't  want  them.  There's  no 
chance  for  argument.  We'll  see  how  many  volunteer 
when  you  put  the  matter  up  to  'em.  I'm  going  to  leave 
the  speechmaking  to  you!" 

"I'm  fairly  handy  with  my  tongue,"  he  said,  with  a  grin. 

"  So  I  know.  And  I  must  be  sure  that  you  will  not  quit. 
That  would  disorganize  the  whole  thing.  All  money 
to  the  men  must  go  through  your  hands.  Therefore,  Mr. 
Hook,  you  must  deposit  with  me,  so  as  to  cinch  your 
responsibility,  the  sum  of  five  hundred  dollars  in  cash 
before  axes  start  this  morning." 

That  idea  did  not  please  Mr.  Henshaw  Hook — not  for 
a  minute!  He  looked  pretty  blank. 

"I  haven't  any  option  in  the  matter,"  I  stated,  coldly. 
"The  syndicate  makes  its  rules — but  you  can  see  that's 
a  common-sense  one.  I  couldn't  be  jumping  around  the 
country,  leaving  behind  a  lot  of  operations  running  by 
guess  and  by  gosh,  nobody  financially  responsible  for  the 
details." 

"Corporations  have  to  have  their  rules,  Hen,"  said 
helpful  Landlord  Vose.  "We  all  know  how  young  Sidney, 
here,  has  come  along  in  the  world!" 

"The  Sortwells  have  advertised  that  all  right,"  agreed 
Mr.  Hook. 

"He  isn't  working  for  dubs,  Hen!" 

"Probably  not!  But  with  the  judge  out  of  town  I 

136 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

can't  dig  up  more  than  three  hundred  and  fifty  this  morn- 
ing, not  even  if  I  went  and  robbed  my  old  woman's  work- 
basket!" 

"Needn't  worry  about  that,"  said  Dodovah  Vose. 
"I've  got  public  spirit  and  I  want  to  see  business  get  a 
hump  on  in  this  town.  I'll  lend  you  enough  to  make 
up  the  five  hundred." 

Mr.  Hook  devoted  thirty  seconds  to  meditation.  "  Let's 
see — what  did  I  understand  you  to  say  your  concern 
is?"  he  queried  with  assumed  innocence. 

"I  did  not  say — we  are  not  advertising;  we  are  pussy- 
footing so  that  they  won't  be  boosting  land  values  on  us," 
I  said,  serenely. 

"But  among  friends — " 

"News  travels  faster  among  friends  than  anywhere 
else.  Mr.  Hook,  I'm  not  going  to  risk  my  job  by  snooting 
off  my  mouth.  You  don't  think  I've  come  back  to  my 
home  town  to  work  a  flimflam  trick,  do  you?" 

"I'll  grab  in  on  this  myself  rather  than  see  the  plan 
dumped,"  stated  the  landlord. 

"  I'll  go  down  and  put  the  thing  up  to  the  boys,"  offered 
Hook,  hastily.  Fifty  dollars  and  over  a  day  had  properly 
baited  this  Hook. 

Our  auctioneer  was  a  good  talker!  When — as  he  put 
it  to  them  amidst  laughter — he  asked  the  sheep  to  sepa- 
rate from  the  goats,  more  than  a  hundred  and  fifty  men 
stepped  to  one  side  and  waved  their  axes  as  signal  that 
they  were  ready  to  go  to  work. 

Fifteen  minutes  later,  closeted  with  Vose  and  Hook 
in  my  room,  I  was  counting  the  deposit  money — a  fat 
bundle  of  bills;  I  had  made  ready  for  that  part  of  the 
ceremony  and  I  had  an  equally  fat  packet  of  blank  paper 
in  the  drawer  of  my  little  table.  I  had  not  sat  at  the 
feet  of  my  crook  acquaintances  without  hearing  much 
about  the  ' '  substitution  trick. ' '  I  worked  it  then  and  there 
on  those  guileless  old  countrymen. 

I  merely  yanked  out  a  table  drawer  with  the  casual 

137 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

remark  about  an  envelope,  turned  my  back  for  an  in- 
stant, and  then  slipped  into  an  envelope  in  full  view 
of  them  a  financial  sandwich;  I  had  made  that  sand- 
wich by  flicking  two  bills  off  the  money -packet  and 
framing  the  blank  paper.  I  licked  the  mucilage,  spanked 
down  the  flap,  and  handed  the  packet  to  Landlord 
Vose.  I  left  the  rest  of  the  money  in  the  drawer  and 
slammed  it  shut. 

"I  suppose  you  have  wax  and  a  seal  down-stairs,  Mr. 
Vose.  Please  daub  on  a  little  and  lock  this  up  in  your 
safe.  Then  Mr.  Hook  and  you  and  I  will  feel  all  right 
about  our  affairs." 

I  led  the  gang  to  the  wood-lot,  and  that  plug-hat  of  mine 
must  have  flashed  in  the  March  sunlight  about  as  brightly 
as  the  helmet  of  Henry  of  Navarre — providing  I  remember 
my  Fourth  Reader  selection.  That  wad  of  bills  which  I 
had  frisked  out  of  the  table  drawer  was  bulked  against 
my  ribs  in  most  comforting  manner. 

I  never  saw  men  pitch  into  a  job  more  cheerfully  than 
those  chaps  did  after  I  led  them  over  the  fence  and  gave 
the  word.  It  was  a  real  frolic.  Men  bantered  one  another 
and  made  side  bets  on  ability  and  everybody  was  laughing. 
Axes  sounded  in  a  chick-chock  chorus,  and  trees  began  to 
crash  down. 

I  spent  the  most  of  the  day  on  the  job,  for  I  saw  oppor- 
tunities for  extra  profits;  there  was  quite  a  stand  of 
hackmatack,  for  instance,  and  there  was  a  lot  of  cedar 
which  fringed  a  small  swamp.  I  made  special  bargains 
with  men  to  fell  this  stuff  for  railroad  ties.  There  was 
also  considerable  pine  suitable  for  box  stuff;  before 
the  day  was  over  a  portable-sawmill  man,  hearing  of  the 
onslaught  on  the  Kingsley  lot,  came  hurrying  to  the  village, 
made  a  trade  for  the  pine,  and  paid  down  a  sizable  deposit ; 
advertising  was  certainly  paying! 

One  of  the  most  interested  onlookers  was  my  uncle  Deck, 
who  drove  close  to  the  wood-lot  fence  and  scowled  and 
sliced  the  air  with  his  whip.  He  made  several  trips  dur- 

138 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

ing  the  day  and  was  handy  by  when  I  started  to  walk 
back  to  the  village  in  the  late  afternoon.  He  offered  a 
seat  in  his  wagon  and  I  accepted,  for  I  was  all  done  being 
scared  of  him  and  I  was  footsore. 

"Recorded  your  deed  yet?"  he  asked. 

"No,  not  yet,"  I  said,  airily. 

"Probably  not,  seeing  that  you  haven't  got  any." 

I  let  it  go  at  that,  having  no  sensible  explanation  to  give 
a  business  man  like  my  uncle. 

"So,  as  it  stands,"  he  went  on,  "it's  a  case  of  neck- 
and-neck  whether  he'll  jew  you  or  you'll  jew  him.  As 
bad  as  I  hate  him  I'm  getting  to  hate  you  worse !  I  hope 
he'll  stick  you.  But  I  doubt  it.  A  young  pirate  who  can 
step  in  here  and  steal  a  whole  wood-lot  right  under  the 
noses  of  men  who  ought  to  know  better  is  qualified  to 
give  old  Judas  I-scarrot  lessons  in  deviltry." 

"I  don't  blame  you  for  feeling  pleased  and  for  praising 
me,  Uncle  Deck.  I  certainly  am  doing  credit  to  your 
training." 

"  But  as  first  selectman  of  this  town  I've  got  a  reputation 
to  look  after,  and  where  will  I  get  off  with  one  of  my 
blood  and  name  serving  time  in  State  prison  for  grand 
larceny?" 

"Oh,  I'm  not  going  to  State  prison." 

"You  will,  with  that  old  devil  after  you,  surer  'n  hell's 
down-hill!" 

"We're  sort  of  partners,  the  judge  and  I."  I  decided 
that  I  might  as  well  give  him  a  jolt  or  two,  even  if  his 
common  sense  did  tell  him  that  I  was  lying. 

"Oh,  bah-h-h!"  he  yelped. 

"And  as  his  partner  I  want  to  warn  you  against  trying 
to  trig  his  business  affairs." 

He  almost  yanked  the  jaw  off  his  horse,  pulling  the 
animal  to  a  standstill. 

"Condemn  your  young  tripe!  You  are  about  as 
much  a  partner  of  his  as  a  pullet  is  partner  of  a  pole- 
cat !  Don't  you  talk  up  to  me !  If  you  are  trying  to  cheat 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

him  I'll  help  you  do  it.  But  if  you  are  trying  to  help 
him,  down  goes  your  house!" 

"I  propose  to  help  him — help  his  family,"  I  said. 

To  my  surprise  he  held  himself  in.  "Help  him  how?" 
he  asked. 

"Why,  by  making  you  quit  hounding  him,  for  one  thing. 
It's  time  this  foolish  old  row  was  stopped.  I  am  taking 
a  special  interest  in  Judge  Kingsley's  family  in  these  days." 

" Down  to  brass  tacks,  now!  You  mean  just  what  you 
say,  do  you?" 

"I  most  certainly  do,  Uncle  Deck!" 

"Don't  you  dare  to  call  me  uncle,  you  wall-eyed  pup! 
You  have  gone  to  leaning  up  against  that  girl  like  a  tom- 
cat cuddling  a  warm  brick,  have  you?  You're  letting 
her  fool  you  along — " 

"Shut  that  dirty  mouth  of  yours!"  I  shouted. 

"Get  out  of  this  wagon — out  with  you!" 

I  obeyed  promptly,  for  I  had  had  plenty  of  his  society. 

He  waggled  his  whip-lash  close  to  my  nose  when  I 
stood  in  the  road.  "When  you  get  into  State  prison, 
where  you  belong,"  he  snarled,  "you'll  have  a  chum  there. 
For  that's  where  I'm  going  to  send  old  Kingsley,  so  help 
me  the  living  God !" 

And  he  curled  the  lash  with  all  his  might  under  the 
belly  of  his  horse,  taking  it  out  on  the  poor  brute,  and 
tore  away,  with  the  animal  on  the  dead  run. 

I  trudged  along  in  the  dust  he  left  flying.  A  fine 
chance  I  stood  of  handling  my  uncle  Deck ! 

A  precious  lot  of  fool  babbling  that  talk  had  been  at 
the  front  door  of  the  Kingsley  house  the  night  before! 

Nevertheless,  I  went  to  the  house  again  that  evening, 
for  I  had  a  business  excuse.  I  told  mother  and  daughter 
that  certain  urgent  matters  called  me  out  of  town  and 
that  I  would  be  leaving  early  in  the  morning.  I  had  a 
word  or  two  to  say  about  my  arrangements  for  clearing 
the  lot  so  that  their  minds  might  be  at  ease  if  any  gossip 
came  to  them;  in  country  communities  there  are  busy- 

140 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

bodies  who  are  always  guessing  at  mischief  and  are  trying 
to  make  trouble. 

I  remained  with  them  only  a  short  time,  for  I  was  afraid 
they  would  try  to  get  consolation  out  of  me  regarding 
my  uncle  and  I  was  not  in  the  mood  to  do  any  more 
lying.  I  was  in  a  generally  uncomfortable  state  of  mind, 
anyway,  and  I  knew  that  Celene  was  troubled  by  my  man- 
ner. There  seemed  to  be  sense  of  impending  evil  hovering 
over  the  three  of  us.  Frankly,  my  uncle's  threat  regard- 
ing the  judge  had  thrown  a  good-sized  scare  into  me; 
Uncle  Deck  had  truly  acted  as  if  he  knew  what  he  was 
talking  about.  My  own  conscience  was  creaking  con- 
siderably inside  me.  When  I  rose  to  go  Celene  did  not 
see  me  to  the  door.  She  gazed  at  me  tenderly  when  I 
stated  that  I  would  be  back  in  a  few  days,  but  some  sort 
of  reserve  kept  her  at  her  mother's  side. 

The  stars  were  certainly  not  so  bright  that  night  when 
I  walked  back  to  the  tavern.  In  my  gloom  a  memory 
popped  into  my  mind,  queerly  enough.  I  remembered 
that  Dodovah  Vose  had  loaned  me  ten  dollars  the  night 
he  helped  me  to  escape. 

I  plucked  a  bill  out  of  my  breast  pocket  and  handed 
it  to  him  when  I  walked  into  the  tavern. 

"I  hope  you'll  excuse  the  delay,"  I  pleaded. 

"I  sure  will,"  he  replied,  heartily.  "You're  an  honest 
chap,  young  Sidney!" 

But  I  was  far  from  feeling  honest  that  night. 


i          xin 


THE  MAN  WHO  TALKED  IN  THE  DARK 

NEXT  morning  Dodovah  Vose  drove  me  to  the  railroad 
station  at  the  Lower  Corners.  He  looked  at  the 
trip  as  a  sort  of  a  triumphal  parade,  and  said  so  to  me. 

"Some  different  from  that  night  ride  we  took,  young 
Sidney,"  he  chuckled.  "I'm  playing  hackman  this  time 
so  as  to  take  the  taste  of  that  other  ride  out  of  my 
mouth!" 

Yet,  as  I  rode  that  morning  by  his  side,  I  was  won- 
dering whether  I  would  have  courage  to  come  back  to 
Levant.  Panic  was  in  me — it  truly  was! 

"Mighty  scared  little  bug  was  you  that  night!  But 
I  always  knew  you  had  sprawl  and  gumption  in  you. 
Now  you're  showing  the  old  town  a  thing  or  two  and  I'm 
proud  of  you." 

His  praise  made  me  cringe  more  than  ever. 

When  we  passed  the  wood-lot  a  merry  rick-tack  of 
axes  sounded  in  our  ears. 

"Yes,  sir !  You  have  shown  them  all  that  you  can  come 
back  here  and  start  something,"  stated  Landlord  Vose. 
He  did  not  realize  how  infernally  right  he  was.  What  I 
had  started  was  setting  the  willy-wallies  to  dancing  in 
my  soul. 

"Things  have  come  along  with  such  a  rush  that  I 
haven't  thought  to  ask  you  how  you  happened  to  hit  it 
off  so  smooth  with  the  judge,"  he  proceeded,  and  my 
alarm  increased. 

"I  met  him  on  the  road,  and  we  turned  a  quick  trade 

142 


WHERE   YOUR  TREASURE   IS 

on  the  spot.  He  was  starting  for  the  city  and  we  had  to 
trade  sudden  or  not  at  all." 

"That  hasn't  been  the  judge's  usual  way  in  business," 
he  commented,  sagely.  "I  have  had  some  dealings  with 
him  myself,  and  so  I  know  his  style  pretty  well."  He 
gave  me  a  sly,  sideways  glance.  "Yes,  I  know  him  so 
well  that  I've  noticed  how  he's  losing  his  grip  on  business." 

"And  do  you  think  he  has  been  losing  money,  too?" 
I  plumped  at  him. 

"Well,"  drawled  Vose,  "I  don't  know  how  much  money 
he's  got  nor  what  sort  of  investments  he's  carrying  or  how 
much  money  he  has  been  handling  for  other  folks,  for  he 
has  always  been  cussed  secret  in  his  operations.  And 
the  folks  who  have  turned  money  over  to  him  have  been 
secret,  too,  for  I  reckon  he  has  helped  them  hide  their 
money  away  from  the  tax-assessors.  But  I'll  tell  you, 
young  Sidney,  his  money,  however  much  he's  got,  must 
be  pretty  well  tied  up  these  days." 

I  questioned  him  with  a  side-glance  which  met  his  own-. 

"Because  when  old  Rollins  died  a  few  months  ago  the 
heirs  lit  on  the  judge  for  the  money  he  had  in  his  hands — 
for  the  heirs  are  spenders  and  wanted  the  money  to  toss 
away.  The  judge's  home  place  is  in  his  wife's  name  and 
she  mortgaged  it  to  raise  the  money — and  when  a  man 
mortgages  the  roof  over  his  family's  head  he  does  need 
money,  there's  no  doubt  about  that." 

"But  there  are  times  when  a  man  doesn't  like  to  sacri- 
fice securities,"  I  said.  Somehow  I  felt  as  if  I  had  been 
specially  delegated  to  stand  up  for  the  Kingsley  family., 

"Maybe  so!  Maybe  so!"  agreed  Vose.  "Finance  is  a 
strange  critter — and  the  judge  is  a  regular  financier. 
But,  I  swan,  if  I  like  the  looks  of  the  strangers  he  has  been 
doing  business  with  for  a  long  time  back.  I  ain't  any 
kind  of  a  hand  to  pry  into  the  dealings  of  men  who  put 
up  at  my  tavern.  Those  fellows  always  paid  their  bills 
and  showed  plenty  of  money,  but  it  don't  seem  to  me  as 
if  straight  business  needs  to  be  so  blamed  secret." 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"However,  the  big  fellows  in  money  affairs  keep  their 
cards  pretty  close  to  their  vests,"  I  suggested. 

"Maybe  so!    But  he's  selling  property  off  slapdash — " 

"Mrs.  Kingsley  says  he  wants  to  get  rid  of  some  of 
his  cares."  Perhaps  she  had  not  said  just  that — but  I 
had  taken  the  role  of  the  family  champion. 

"Maybe  so — and  if  that's  the  case,  it's  too  bad  your 
uncle  Deck  is  rampaging  so.  Generally,  we  all  trust  the 
judge  and  look  up  to  him,  and  we  don't  want  to  see  him 
bothered  at  this  time  in  his  life.  But  here's  your  uncle 
trying  to  stir  up  enough  sentiment  to  call  a  special  town 
meeting." 

"What  for?"    I  was  more  alarmed  than  ever. 

"His  excuse  is  that  the  town  is  now  so  prosperous 
that  we  can  afford  to  pay  off  the  whole  town  debt 
by  a  little  extra  splurge  in  taxation.  Says  that  with 
the  debt  all  paid  off  new  industries  can  be  induced 
to  locate  here." 

"But  does  that  mean  anything  against  Judge  Kingsley? 
It  looks  to  me  like  enterprise  on  Uncle  Deck's  part." 

Again  Mr.  Vose  chanted  his  everlasting  and  sing- 
song, "Maybe  so!"  Then  he  added:  "But  I  reckon  your 
uncle  Deck  has  more  visible  property  spread  around 
this  town  than  any  other  taxpayer  in  it.  Maybe  he  has 
had  a  change  of  heart  about  money.  Maybe  he  intends 
to  loosen  up  in  his  old  age.  Maybe  he  wants  to  hand 
something  back  to  a  town  he  has  gouged  all  his  life. 
But  from  what  I  know  of  your  uncle  Deck,  I  don't  think 
he  has  grown  so  cussed  patriotic  all  of  a  sudden.  Young 
Sidney,  I  reckon  there's  a  hotter  and  livelier  reason. 
Your  uncle  has  been  nursing  a  grudge  till  it's  well-grown 
and  all  haired  out.  That  grudge  is  prancing,  and  he's 
willing  to  pay  high  for  a  chance  to  show  its  paces  in  public. 
And  there's  more  in  the  plan  of  that  special  town  meeting 
than  shows  on  the  surface  at  present  writing!" 

Therefore,  when  I  climbed  on  board  the  train  I  had 
plenty  to  think  about  outside  the  immediate  business  I 

144 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

had  in  hand,  though  that  was  enough  for  one  poor  mind, 
Lord  knows! 

Take  everything,  by  and  large,  I  was  in  the  prime  mess 
of  my  young  life  up  to  date. 

The  principal  reason  why  I  stayed  in  it,  I  suppose,  was 
because  I  didn't  know  any  better!  That  reason  has 
accounted  for  a  lot  of  my  experiences. 

Some  of  the  best  fights  on  the  records  have  been  won 
by  men  who  were  worst  scared. 

I  alighted  in  Mechanicsville  in  a  state  of  mind  I'll  not 
attempt  to  describe.  But  I  looked  at  myself  in  a  store 
window  and  made  up  a  business  face  to  go  with  my  ap- 
pearance. I  hired  the  best  hack  in  sight.  I  started  on  a 
round  of  factories,  wood  merchants,  brick-yards,  and 
lumber-dealers.  I  rode  up  to  the  doors  of  offices  in  style; 
I  walked  in  on  'em  in  style. 

It  was  certainly  a  new  wrinkle  in  wood-peddling — this 
plug-hat  performance !  It  opened  all  doors  to  me.  I  don't 
know  what  they  thought  I  was,  before  I  opened  my  mouth, 
but  I  was  not  kept  twiddling  my  thumbs  in  anterooms; 
the  main  squeeze  in  every  office  shunted  all  else  in  order 
to  greet  me.  I  wonder  what  would  have  been  my  lot  if 
I  had  come  as  a  stammering  farmer,  a  crude  countryman, 
or  a  chopper  in  wool  boots ! 

I  sold  wood!    By  gracious,  I  did! 

I  found  out  something  all  of  a  sudden.  I  discovered 
that  I  had  the  art  of  salesmanship.  It's  an  art,  a  qualifi- 
cation hard  to  describe.  Every  man  who  has  ever  bought 
anything  knows  what  it  is  and  how  it  has  operated  in 
his  case. 

I  sold  wood  and  lumber  and  sleepers — and  the  more  I 
sold,  the  higher  rose  my  confidence  in  my  personality, 
and  I  had  hard  work  to  control  and  conceal  my  hysterics 
of  success. 

I  worked  off  onto  brick -yards  even  the  crooked  limbs, 
the  second-grade  stuff  which  I  had  seen  piling  up  on  my 
operation. 

145 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

With  every  buyer  I  made  written  contracts,  designating 
prompt  delivery  on  certain  dates,  first  deliveries  to  be 
made  within  a  week  and  calling  for  cash  payments  of 
two-thirds  of  value  of  wood  delivered,  the  whole  amount 
to  be  paid  when  final  delivery  was  made. 

I  went  on  down  the  line  to  another  city  and  then  to  a 
third.  I  sold  wood !  I  sold  for  three  days.  Then  I  woke 
up  and  stopped  selling.  It  occurred  to  me  that  I  might 
be  overguessing  on  the  resources  of  the  Kingsley  wood-lot. 

I  had  not  a  mite  of  trouble  in  arranging  with  the  division 
superintendent  of  the  railroad  line  for  a  supply  of  gondola 
cars;  I  was  offering  something  worth  his  attention. 

I  left  that  gentleman  in  mighty  abrupt  fashion ;  he  must 
have  thought  that  I  was  a  very  precipitate  business  man. 
But  while  I  was  winding  up  my  arrangements  with  him, 
I  looked  out  of  his  office  window  in  the  railroad  station 
into  the  windows  of  a  train  which  was  pulling  slowly  out, 
on  its  way  up-country.  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  stern 
profile  with  a  roll  of  chin-beard  under  it.  If  that  face  did 
not  belong  to  Zebulon  Kingsley —  But  I  did  not  stop 
to  do  any  more  thinking  on  the  matter.  I  galloped  out 
of  that  office.  I  had  to  chase  that  train  a  hundred  yards 
down  the  platform — but  I  made  the  last  car! 

Zebulon  Kingsley  home  ahead  of  schedule! 

I  stood  on  the  car  steps,  getting  my  breath,  giving 
dizzy  thought  to  the  peril  I  had  so  narrowly  missed. 
Zebulon  Kingsley  back  in  Levant  ahead  of  me,  viewing 
his  desolated  wood-lot  and  voicing  his  fury !  Where  would 
my  character  and  importance  land  after  that  blow-up? 

Did  I  say  that  my  dizzy  thoughts  dealt  with  a  peril 
I  had  missed?  In  about  ten  seconds  I  decided  that  I  was 
traveling  right  along  with  the  peril.  I  was  doomed  to 
drop  into  Levant  in  its  company. 

I  might  have  been  mistaken,  I  reflected.  I  hoped  I  had 
been  deceived  by  a  too-hasty  glance.  I  walked  down 
through  the  train.  I  was  pretty  sure  of  my  man  when 
I  passed  him,  though  I  got  a  view  of  the  back  of  his  head 

146 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

only.  Therefore  I  went  to  the  front  of  the  car,  making  an 
excuse  of  the  water-cooler.  I  looked  back  at  him  while 
I  drank.  He  seemed  to  be  asleep,  for  his  head  was  bent 
down  into  the  folds  of  the  cape  he  had  pulled  about  his 
ears.  I  was  so  sure  he  was  asleep  that  when  I  went  back 
up  the  car  I  gave  him  a  bold  look  to  convince  myself  I 
had  not  been  mistaken. 

I  got  one  of  the  starts  of  my  life ! 

Zebulon  Kingsley  was  distinctly  not  asleep.  His  eyes 
were  like  fire-balls,  and  he  stared  straight  at  me  without 
one  flicker  of  the  lids  or  crinkle  of  the  countenance  to 
show  that  he  recognized  me.  His  face  was  gray  and 
haggard.  He  was  like  a  stone  man.  If  he  had  given  one 
hint  by  his  expression  that  he  knew  me  I  would  have 
pushed  myself  in  beside  him,  I  reckon,  and  would  have 
come  across  with  my  little  story.  But  that  frozen  face 
was  too  much  for  me.  I  was  doing  a  lot  of  guessing  about 
his  state  of  mind,  and  my  guesses  warned  me  to  stay 
away  from  him  just  then. 

I  hurried  past  and  sat  down  in  the  first  vacant  seat. 

The  feeling  I  had  was  that  he  had  found  out  by  letter 
from  home  or  somehow  what  kind  of  a  trick  I  had  cut 
up.  Those  glaring  eyes  hinted  at  unutterable  things.  He 
must  be  in  such  a  fury,  I  thought,  that  words  had  failed 
him.  He  was  waiting  until  he  stepped  foot  in  Levant  to 
go  at  me  in  proper  style.  Naturally,  he  would  not  start 
anything  on  a  railroad  train.  I  sat  there  while  those 
thoughts  flamed  up  in  me  like  fire  in  a  brush-heap,  and 
for  a  long  time  I  found  no  handy  extinguisher  for  those 
thoughts. 

However,  there  was  a  rather  comforting  packet  in  the 
breast  pocket  of  my  frock-coat;  I  got  out  those  contracts 
and  went  over  them  carefully. 

I  did  have  some  visible  emblems  of  success  to  stick  up 
in  front  of  his  sour  face  when  it  came  to  a  showdown. 
But  if  Zebulon  Kingsley  was  not  willing  to  start  anything 
in  public  on  a  train,  neither  was  I.  I  studied  my  contracts, 

i47 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

added  figures,  and  tried  to  keep  my  mind  off  the  big 
trouble  ahead.  But  who  has  ever  sat  near  a  bomb  with 
a  sputtering  fuse  and  felt  in  a  mood  for  philosophy?  I 
couldn't  even  add  figures ! 

The  train  bumped  on  and  on.    It  was  a  long  ride. 

When  we  arrived  at  Levant  Corners,  I  followed  Kingsley 
so  closely  that  we  almost  walked  in  a  lock-step.  I  had 
a  sort  of  crazy  notion  that  if  he  started  to  bawl  me  out 
on  the  platform  and  expose  me  to  the  populace  I'd  choke 
him  and  drag  him  off  somewhere  for  an  explanation,  for  I 
truly  did  have  a  face  to  save  in  Levant. 

I  trod  behind  him  on  the  station  platform.  Far  up  the 
platform  was  waiting  a  man  who  wore  a  constable's 
badge.  I  itched  all  over  as  we  approached  that  man; 
I  fully  expected  that  the  judge  would  whirl  and  point 
me  out  and  call  for  my  arrest.  But  the  constable  touched 
his  hat  respectfully  and  the  judge  marched  on.  I  almost 
bumped  into  him  when  he  stopped  at  hail  of  a  citizen. 
I  was  forced  to  go  on,  then.  The  citizen  had  buttonholed 
the  judge  on  some  matter  of  business,  but  by  the  few  words 
I  heard  I  knew  it  was  no  affair  of  mine.  I  ran  my  eye 
over  the  array  of  hitches  waiting  in  the  station  yard, 
expecting  to  see  Celene  Kingsley.  But  she  was  not  there. 
Her  absence  hinted  to  me  that  her  father  was  not  ex- 
pected. Then  he  would  ride  on  the  stage!  I  resolved  to 
walk  on  and  to  hail  it  when  it  overtook  me.  I  proposed 
to  be  on  the  scene  when  Judge  Kingsley  got  first  peep  at 
what  had  been  his  wood-lot.  I  kept  looking  behind  and 
noted  that  he  walked  past  the  stage-coach  and  had  started 
to  foot  it  on  my  trail.  Therefore  he  was  not  expected  at 
home,  and  for  reasons  of  his  own  had  decided  to  walk. 

When  I  saw  that  the  stage  had  come  on  without  him 
and  had  observed  that  he  shook  protesting  hand  at  per- 
sons who  stopped  and  offered  a  lift,  I  walked  on  more 
briskly.  He  wanted  to  be  left  alone,  then !  His  expression 
had  already  hinted  to  me  that  he  had  no  use  for  com- 
panionship at  that  time. 

148 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

At  last  I  could  hear  my  ax-men.  Their  blades  were 
biting  wood  in  lively  chorus,  though  the  dusk  was  gather- 
ing. I  realized  that  the  spirit  of  rivalry  was  in  them  and 
that  they  were  not  watching  the  clock  on  that  job.  When 
I  came  in  sight  of  the  wood-lot  I  saw  that  a  big  expanse 
had  been  cleared,  down  to  the  bushes;  the  bared  land  was 
thickly  dotted  with  wood  which  was  tiered  in  cord  lots. 
I  hardly  recognized  the  place. 

The  notion  struck  me  that  this  was  the  proper  strategic 
point  to  await  the  battle.  In  the  first  place,  I  would  not 
be  obliged  to  waste  any  breath  in  telling  Zebulon  Kingsley 
that  his  wood-lot  was  being  cleared;  his  eyes  would 
inform  him  on  that  point.  I  could  devote  all  my  lan- 
guage and  energy  to  the  job  of  enlightening  him  regarding 
my  activities  in  the  matter,  my  hopes  and  his  prospects 
of  getting  some  money.  Secondly,  considering  strategy, 
my  appearance  before  my  men,  accompanied  by  Judge 
Kingsley,  after  I  got  him  under  control,  would  put  the 
stamp  of  authority  on  the  whole  affair;  I  believed  I  could 
control  him.  He  certainly  would  have  to  take  the  situa- 
tion as  he  found  it;  he  couldn't  stick  those  trees  back  into 
the  ground  again. 

Therefore  I  settled  my  plug-hat  well  on  my  head, 
pulled  out  my  bunch  of  contracts,  and  waited  for  him  to 
come  around  the  bend  in  the  road. 

I  reflected  that  he  had  looked  to  me  like  a  man  who 
had  a  great  deal  of  trouble  on  his  mind.  In  my  young 
days,  when  old  dog  Bonny  was  dreadfully  afflicted 
with  fleas  I  tied  a  tin  can  to  his  tail  to  take  his  mind  off 
his  troubles.  I  believe  fully  that  changing  the  current 
of  his  thoughts  for  a  time  proved  really  restful  to  him. 

It  was  certain  that  Judge  Kingsley  would  have  the 
current  of  his  thoughts  changed  in  a  very  few  minutes. 
He  would  have  something  entirely  fresh  to  think  about, 
and  I  hoped  it  would  do  him  good,  even  though  I  received 
no  thanks. 

He  seemed  pretty  much  cast  down  when  he  shambled 

149 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

into  sight,  his  shoulders  bowed,  staring  at  the  road  ahead 
of  him.  But  all  at  once  he  straightened,  threw  back  his 
head,  and  seemed  to  sniff  the  air. 

"Charge!"  I  said  to  myself.  And  he  set  his  elbows 
akimbo  under  his  cape  and  came  at  a  trot. 

He  tried  to  rush  past  me  on  his  way  to  the  fence,  but 
I  stepped  in  front  of  him  and  threw  up  my  hands. 

"Just  a  moment,  Judge  Kingsley!  This  is  my  busi- 
ness— " 

"Your  business  be  damned!"  he  stuttered. 

Strong  talk  for  a  Sunday-school  teacher,  but  it  made 
liim  seem  more  human  and  my  courage  rose  a  bit.  I  had 
not  known  how  to  tackle  that  frozen  figure  he  looked 
to  be  in  the  railroad  train. 

"But  I'll  explain!" 

"  I'm  going  to  find  out  what  this  set  of  infernal  thieves — " 

He  wouldn't  wait  any  longer,  though  I  was  trying  to 
head  him  off  with  my  arms  outstretched.  He  drove  past 
me  and  wrenched  a  post  out  of  the  fence  and  started  to 
climb  into  the  wood-lot.  There  was  only  one  thing  to  do — 
I  must  get  the  upper  hand  of  the  infuriated  old  man 
before  we  attracted  the  attention  of  my  busy  workers; 
the  dusk  was  helping  me  in  that  respect. 

I  pulled  the  stake  from  him,  held  him  by  his  arms,  and 
set  my  face  close  to  his;  he  was  a  scrawny  old  chap  and 
he  hadn't  any  muscle  left. 

"Judge  Kingsley,  forgive  me — but  you  must  listen. 
It's  best  for  all  concerned.  I  have  bought  this  lot  from 
you  and  I  am  operating  on  it." 

I  thought  he  would  choke  to  death  before  he  got  the 
words  wrenched  out  of  him. 

"You  haven't  bought  it.  You  couldn't  buy  it!  There 
is  no  money  passed.  There's  no  deed.  You're  a  thief!" 

I  had  dropped  the  bunch  of  contracts  when  I  grabbed 
him.  I  released  my  clutch  on  one  arm  and  picked  up 
the  packet. 

"Here's  something  to  show  I  am  not  a  thief,  sir.  You've 

150 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

got  to  look  at  'em.    And  the  middle  of  the  road  is  no  place 
for  our  business." 

Furthermore,  I  noticed  all  at  once  that  the  choppers 
were  giving  up  work  and  starting  for  the  highway 

Probably  the  most  sensible  way  was  for  me  to  go  along 
to  his  house,  exhorting  him  to  keep  his  mouth  shut  till 
he  understood  the  matter.  But  a  row  with  him  in  his 
own  house  would  be  exposing  myself  to  Celene.  I  held 
his  arm  and  hurried  him  across  the  road  and  into  the 
woods  opposite.  He  protested  angrily,  but  I  kept  him 
on  the  move  until  we  were  in  a  little  clearing  which  the 
red  western  skies  still  lighted  enough  for  my  purpose. 

I  flapped  the  contracts  under  his  nose.  "You  adver- 
tised the  land — you  gave  me  a  price,  Judge  Kingsley. 
I  know  I  have  been  irregular.  I  cannot  stop  now  to  ex- 
plain why,  but  I  have  sold  all  the  wood.  Here  are  the 
contracts.  Hunt  up  the  men  and  make  sure,  if  you  don't 
believe  writing  and  signatures.  I'll  let  you  go  and  collect 
your  two  thousand  dollars  before  a  dollar  comes  to  me." 

I  shoved  the  papers  into  his  hands  and  he  pawed  them 
over  without  seeming  to  understand  very  well. 

"Contracts?" 

"Yes,  sir!    Contracts  with  responsible  concerns." 

"I'll  have  you  arrested,"  he  insisted,  but  his  anger 
was  dying  out  and  he  sort  of  whined,  "It's  my  land; 
you  haven't  any  right  to  make  contracts." 

All  at  once  his  legs  bent  under  him  and  he  sat  down  on 
the  ground.  There  was  plainly  something  special  the 
matter  with  Zebulon  Kingsley ! 

"  Oh,  my  God !"  he  mourned.  "Are  all  the  blatherskites, 
thieves,  and  swindlers  in  this  world  on  my  track  ?" 

"Don't  tie  any  of  those  kind  of  tags  on  to  me,  Judge 
Kingsley.  It  isn't  fair!" 

"You  have  robbed  me!" 

"Confound  it!    Look  at  the  contracts!"    He  did  not 
seem  to  be  taking  any  interest  in  the  papers;   he  merely 
waggled  the  packet  about  like  a  child  waving  a  rattle, 
ii  iS1 


"First  one,  and  then  the  other!  They  have  robbed  me. 
I  am  ruined !" 

I  squatted  down  in  front  of  him  and  made  him  look  at 
me.  I  was  in  the  mood  for  any  kind  of  self-sacrifice.  I 
wanted  to  beat  it  into  his  old  head  that  there  was  one 
man  who  was  trying  to  help  him. 

"Judge  Kingsley,  listen  to  me!  You  are  sure  of  getting 
your  two  thousand  dollars  for  your  wood-lot.  I  say 
again,  go  yourself  and  collect  the  money.  If  my  estimates 
are  in  any  way  near  right — and  I  reckon  I  am  inside  the 
truth — there's  around  a  thousand  dollars  profit  in  this 
deal,  profit  I  was  intending  to  take  for  myself.  But, 
seeing  that  you  feel  as  you  do  about  my  actions,  111  hand 
the  whole  thing  over  to  you.  Take  it  all!  Come  to  me 
in  the  morning  when  you're  feeling  better  and  I'll  explain 
my  trade  with  Henshaw  Hook  and  the  choppers." 

He  looked  at  me  and  never  said  a  word. 

"I  don't  even  ask  any  pay  for  the  time  I  have  put  in," 
I  said,  trying  to  make  myself  as  much  of  an  angel  as  I 
could,  now  that  I  was  started  on  the  savior  trail.  "You 
understand,  don't  you?  All  you've  got  to  do  is  keep  my 
promises  to  the  men  and  pull  down  around  three  thousand 
in  cash!" 

In  a  story-book  that  would  have  been  his  cue  to  get  up 
and  clasp  me  to  his  breast.  He  simply  blinked  at  me. 
I  began  to  get  a  little  warm  in  the  region  of  my  neckband. 

"If  that's  the  way  you  feel  about  it,  Judge  Kingsley," 
I  said,  straightening  up,  "I'll  bid  you  good  evening. 
After  you  have  tucked  your  three  thousand  in  your  jeans, 
send  me  a  bill  for  damages  and  I'll  settle." 

He  called  me  back  before  I  had  taken  many  steps. 

"My  head  isn't  right,"  he  mumbled.  "I  have  been 
having  much  trouble.  What  have  you  been  telling  me?" 

I  went  over  the  thing  again,  very  patiently,  for  I  saw 
I  was  dealing  with  a  case  which  was  more  serious  than  I 
thought.  The  night  was  on  us  by  that  time.  I  tore  strips 
of  birch  bark  from  a  tree,  lighted  them  one  by  one,  and 

152 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

made  a  torch  so  that  he  could  examine  one  of  the  contracts. 
Again  I  insisted  that  he  must  take  the  whole  thing  oveiv 
profits  and  all. 

"I  had  no  right  to  start  in  on  your  property  as  I  did, 
Judge  Kingsley.  So  I'll  fine  myself  a  thousand!" 

"I  think  I  ought  to  call  you  honest,  young  man,"  he 
said,  after  a  time.  "I  have  hard  work  to  believe  that 
any  man  is  honest  in  this  world  just  now,  but  what 
you  say  sounds  honest.  I'll  meet  you  half-way  in  your 
honesty." 

He  asked  me  to  hold  more  torches.  He  found  a  sheet 
of  letter-paper  in  his  wallet,  bearing  his  name  printed  at 
the  top.  He  wrote  a  receipt  for  two  thousand  dollars, 
using  the  long  wallet  for  his  desk. 

"I  have  dated  it  four  days  back.  Now  that  I  have 
met  you  half-way  in  one  matter,  young  man,  I  ask  you 
to  meet  me  half-way  in  another.  When  you  get  that 
money  in  hand,  pay  it  to  my  wife.  Do  not  tell  anybody 
that  you  did  not  pay  it  to  me."  He  hesitated  a  moment. 
"As  to  the  land — the  deed — " 

"  I  have  no  use  for  the  land,  Judge  Kingsley.  So  there's 
no  call  for  a  deed." 

"I  think  you  are  honest,  young  man.  I  believe  I  can 
trust  you  to  give  the  money  to  my  wife — and  say  nothing 
about  it  outside!" 

"But  I  can  give  it  to  you,  sir,  in  a  few  days!" 

"I  expect  to  be  away  on  business  for  some  time,"  he 
said,  curtly.  "Now  understand!  Whatever  questions 
are  asked  by  anybody  you  must  insist  that  you  paid  that 
money  to  me.  Your  own  interest  requires  it!  Show  the 
receipt." 

"Forgive  me  for  keeping  you  here  so  long  in  the  dark 
and  the  cold,  sir,"  I  pleaded,  realizing  the  situation  all  at 
once.  "If  you'll  let  me  call  on  you  to-morrow  I'll  have 
something  further  to  say  about  the  matter  of  the  profits — 
but  I  won't  bother  you  any  more  to-night." 

"That's  right!    Don't  bother  me  to-night." 

153 


WHERE    YOUR,  TREASURE    IS 

I  waited  for  him  to  come  along  with  me. 

* '  Good  night,  young  man, ' '  he  said.  ' '  Step  along  ahead 
if  you  will!  I  prefer  to  walk  home  alone — I  have  some 
business  matters  to  run  over  in  my  head." 

I  realized  fully  that  Judge  Zebulon  Kingsley  did  not 
care  to  have  a  Sidney  chumming  with  him  before  the 
eyes  of  Levant,  and  I  did  not  take  this  dismissal  in  bad 
part.  I  marched  off. 

But  the  memory  of  that  face  of  his  went  with  me. 
Fifty  feet  up  in  the  road  I  stood  stock-still.  What  did  it 
mean — his  command  to  hand  over  the  money  to  his  wife, 
making  a  secret  of  it?  What  made  his  eyes  burn  so  redly? 
What  was  the  matter  with  Judge  Kingsley,  anyway?  I 
listened  for  his  footsteps  on  the  road  behind  me.  I  heard 
no  sound. 

It  came  to  me  that  Celene  Kingsley  would  have  reason 
to  blame  me  if  I  left  her  old  father  floundering  around 
the  woods  in  the  darkness. 

I  went  tiptoeing  back,  my  ears  perked. 

I  heard  him  talking  rapidly  and  clearly,  not  as  one 
talks  aloud  in  soliloquy,  but  as  if  he  were  addressing  some- 
body. I  stepped  carefully  in  through  the  fringe  of  trees 
and  I  found  out  that  Zebulon  Kingsley  was  talking  to 
somebody;  he  was  talking  to  God! 

I  listened  five  seconds  and  I  realized  what  he  was  talking 
about.  Then  I  leaped  on  him  and  struck  his  wrist  with 
the  edge  of  my  hand. 

He  dropped  a  fat,  ugly  revolver  which  had  glinted  in  the 
starlight.  I  pounced  on  it  and  flung  it  into  the  woods  as 
far  as  muscle,  fright,  and  anger  could  prevail.  When 
I  turned  on  the  judge  he  had  just  tugged  another  re- 
volver out  of  his  pocket,  twin  of  the  other  weapon.  I 
had  a  tussle  with  him  to  get  it,  and  he  fairly  squealed  in 
his  fury.  But  I  wrenched  the  thing  out  of  his  clutch  and 
threw  it;  then  I  pulled  him  to  his  feet  and  patted  him 
all  over,  as  a  policeman  frisks  a  prisoner,  to  make  sure 
that  he  was  not  serving  as  arsenal  for  more  artillery. 

154 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"Judge  Kingsley,"  I  kept  saying  over  and  over,  "your 
wife!  Your  daughter!  Think  of  them!" 

I  was  obliged  to  drag  him  out  of  the  woods  by  main 
strength.  I  propelled  him  along  the  highway  and  he 
walked  as  stiffly  as  some  kind  of  a  wooden  figure,  moved 
by  springs.  His  eyes  stared  straight  ahead  and  his  face 
was  white  in  the  starlight. 

So  we  came  into  the  village  without  a  word  between 
us,  and  I  led  him  by  dark  lanes  to  his  house. 

Then  he  held  back  and  replied  to  what  I  had  said  in 
the  woods  as  if  I  had  just  spoken. 

"I  am  thinking  of  them!  That's  why  I  can't  face 
them!" 

Oh,  the  tone  in  which  he  said  that!  Questions  were 
crowding  in  my  throat,  but  I  did  not  dare  to  pry  into 
troubles  as  deep  as  Judge  Kingsley's  most  certainly  were. 
But  I  had  to  have  some  assurance  from  him. 

"Judge  Kingsley,"  I  said,  with  respect  in  my  voice, 
"I  am  meddling,  but  God  knows  there  was  a  call  for 
somebody  to  meddle  just  now." 

" I  want  to  be  out  of  my  troubles!"  He  was  trembling 
like  a  leaf. 

"But  you're  not  so  much  of  a  coward,  Judge,  that 
you'll  shift  off  all  of  your  troubles  on  to  your  family,  along 
with  the  awful  one  you  were  just  about  to  shove  on  them ! 
I  know  you're  not.  I  have  always  looked  up  to  you,  sir."  . 

"But  nobody  can  look  up  to  me  from  now  on,  young 
man!" 

"I  always  shall,  sir.  We  all  get  rattled  some  time  in 
our  lives."  I  knew  I  was  making  pretty  poor  talk  to  a 
man  like  Judge  Kingsley,  but  I  was  trembling  as  badly 
as  he  was  and  I  did  not  know  what  to  say  to  him. 

"I'm  only  poor  Ross  Sidney,  sir.  You  know  I  don't 
amount  to  much,  but  won't  you  consider  that  I  have 
done  a  little  something  for  you  this  night?  I  stopped 
you  when  you  didn't  know  what  you  were  doing." 

"I  did  know  what  I  was  doing,"  he  groaned.  "I  was 

155 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

doing  it  because  I  couldn't  go  home.  I  walked  up  the 
road  to  the  woods — to  my  woods  on  purpose  to  do  it!" 

It  came  to  me  that  fate,  or  whatever  rules  human 
actions,  had  set  me  to  play  quite  a  part  in  Judge  Kingsley's 
life,  for  his  private  woods  were  not  there — and  I  was. 

"Will  you  consider  me  enough  of  a  man,  sir,  so  that  I 
can  ask  a  man-to-man  promise  that  you'll  sleep  on  this 
thing  and  have  a  talk  with  me  to-morrow?  I  have  helped 
you  on  one  matter.  I'll  do  my  best  to  help  you  in  other 
ways!" 

"There's  no  help  for  me." 

"But  let  me  have  a  talk  to-morrow  with  you!  I  beg 
you,  Judge  Kingsley.  Give  me  your  promise  till  to- 
morrow!" 

He  stiffened  up  and  scowled  at  me.  He  resented  what 
I  said,  I  could  see.  I  guess  he  thought  I  was  trying  to  be 
too  familiar  with  him.  The  old  chap's  pride  was  still  on 
tap.  I  suppose  it  seemed  like  lowering  his  dignity  to 
make  any  sort  of  a  man's  compact  with  young  Ross 
Sidney.  However,  I  was  glad  to  see  pride  bristle  up  a 
bit  in  him. 

"I  never  heard  of  a  Kingsley  being  a  coward,  Judge," 
I  told  him.  "  Or  being  a  liar,  either !  You  owe  me  some- 
thing, sir,  and  I'll  insist  on  being  paid  with  your  promise. 
So  I  reckon  I  have  it."  I  did  not  give  him  opportunity 
to  do  any  talking.  I  rang  the  bell  at  the  door,  though  he 
grabbed  at  my  hand  to  stop  me. 

" I  can't  go  in  now!  My  face — my  conscience!"  So  his 
conscience  was  still  working ! 

"Leave  it  all  to  me,  sir.    I'll  fix  it." 

The  maid  opened  the  door,  and  I  led  him  into  the  sitting- 
room.  Celene  and  her  mother  were  there  and  they 
came  to  their  feet,  gasping  with  fright,  for  I  was  half 
carrying  the  judge. 

"It's  nothing— it's  all  right!"  I  told  them.  "We  have 
been  inspecting  the  work  in  the  wood-lot  on  the  way  from 
the  train.  It's  nothing,  I  say — just  a  little  touch  of  the 

156 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

heart.  The  judge  insisted  on  walking  too  much."  I 
helped  him  to  a  couch.  "I'll  call  in  the  morning  on  that 
business,  sir!"  I  told  him.  Then  I  turned  to  Celene, 
who  was  giving  me  warm  welcome  with  her  eyes,  now  that 
her  fears  were  subsiding.  "Keep  your  eye  on  your  father 
during  the  night,"  I  advised  her.  "Of  course,  it's  nothing 
serious  in  his  case — only  a  little  overtasking  of  the  heart — 
but  a  bit  of  home  nursing  will  do  him  good." 

I  reckoned  I  had  planted  a  loyal  sentinel  over  the  man 
who  was  indebted  to  me  for  giving  him  more  days  of  his 
life,  even  though  they  might  be  bitter  days. 

I  went  to  Dodovah  Vose's  tavern,  feeling  still  more  like 
an  overloaded  mule — saddled  with  plenty  of  my  own 
troubles,  to  say  nothing  of  other  folks'. 


XIV 

THE   KICK-BACKS  IN  THIS   SAMARITAN  BUSINESS 

I  WAS  too  much  upset  to  go  to  sleep  very  early  that 
night,  even  though  Dodovah  Vose  had  given  me  an- 
other of  those  slumber-coaxing  suppers  of  fried  chicken. 

So  Zebulon  Kingsley  was  ruined,  according  to  his  own 
tell! 

But  what  else  besides  ruin  was  fronting  him?  I  knew 
him  and  the  stuff  that  was  in  him.  When  a  man  like  the 
judge  came  humping  back  to  his  home  town,  packing  a 
gun  on  each  hip  and  headed  for  his  woods,  there  to  do 
himself  destruction,  it  meant  something  more  than  that 
he  was  flat  brok e.  The  fact  that  he  had  two  guns  suggested 
that  he  did  not  propose  to  take  any  chances  on  failure. 

His  troubles  might  have  skeow-wowed  his  mind  tem- 
porarily, I  pondered.  The  fact  that  he  had  given  me,  one 
of  the  despised  Sidneys,  a  half-dozen  decent  words  hinted 
at  aberration,  as  I  thought  upon  the  matter.  I  hoped 
that  he  would  stay  crazy  long  enough  so  that  he  would 
allow  me  to  poke  myself  still  further  into  his  affairs  and 
his  family,  and  show  me  a  little  appreciation.  Up  to 
that  time  I  certainly  had  been  using  ax  and  crowbar  on 
the  intimacy  proposition! 

It  was  my  conviction  that  he  would  be  obliged  to  be 
pretty  nice  to  me  from  that  time  on.  I  knew  something 
very  private  and  personal  in  regard  to  Judge  Kingsley, 
Levant  magnate!  All  at  once  I  found  myself  feeling 
rather  like  sticking  my  thumbs  in  my  vest  armholes  and 
showing  condescension  to  that  man  who  had  loomed  so 

158 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

largely  before  my  admiration.  At  any  rate,  no  Sidney 
had  ever  committed  suicide  or  had  tried  to,  unless  it 
might  be  hinted  that  it  mightily  resembled  suicide  when 
my  father  ran  the  ridge-pole  of  the  Butler  barn  after 
wetting  down  the  occasion  with  a  quart  or  so  of  hard 
cider. 

I  felt  decidedly  cocky  when  I  started  over  to  his  house 
the  next  morning.  I  had  his  secret — I  had  manhandled 
him  to  save  his  life.  A  man  might  make  up  his  mind  to 
commit  suicide,  thought  I,  and  then  be  particularly  and 
almighty  grateful,  after  a  night's  sleep,  because  some  chap 
happened  along  at  the  right  time  and  stopped  him  before 
he  had  made  a  fool  of  himself. 

I  headed  for  the  front  door  like  a  friend  of  the  family. 

Judge  Kingsley  opened  his  office  door  in  the  ell  and 
called  to  me. 

"I  do  not  transact  business  in  my  home,"  he  informed 
me,  stiffly.  He  tapped  the  sign  beside  his  door.  "Z. 
Kingsley"  was  its  sole  inscription,  curtly  hinting  that 
no  further  information  was  needed  regarding  that  gen- 
tleman. "I  do  all  business  in  my  office,  sir." 

I  don't  know  in  just  what  condition  I  had  been  expecting 
to  find  the  judge,  and  I  had  not  planned  how  I  would 
act  when  I  met  him,  but  I  know  mighty  well  I  had  not 
calculated  on  the  sort  of  meeting  we  did  have. 

I  found  him  just  as  I  had  found  him  in  times  past 
when  we  had  had  a  word  or  so  together — and  that  was 
my  surprise  that  day! 

I  would  not  have  been  much  astonished  if  he  had  fallen 
on  my  neck  and  sobbed  out  his  gratitude;  I  rather  looked 
for  some  demonstration.  To  find  him  the  same  old,  cold, 
stiff  ramrod  was  outside  all  my  anticipations.  I  went  in 
meekly  and  sat  down. 

"In  the  matter  of  the  wood-lot,"  he  said,  perfectly  at 
ease  and  putting  that  jew's-harp  twang  in  his  nose.  "I 
have  looked  the  contracts  over.  Young  man,  I  don't 
know  whether  to  compliment  you  as  one  of  the  smartest 

159 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

business  men  I  have  ever  met,  or  to  have  you  arrested 
for  an  attempt  at  grand  larceny!" 

I  did  not  know  what  to  say  to  that,  and  sat  and  fiddled 
my  finger  across  the  brim  of  my  plug-hat. 

He  put  out  his  hand.  "Please  allow  me  to  look  at  that 
receipt  I  gave  you." 

I  handed  it  over — obedient  as  a  pup.  He  read  it  and 
tore  it  up. 

"It  is  as  irregular  a  document  as  your  operations  have 
been  irregular.  I  will  give  you  a  deed,  taking  back  your 
note  and  a  mortgage — " 

"But  I  want  no  deed,  sir.  I  said  so  to  you  last  evening. 
I  don't  want  the  land.  You  keep  it." 

He  gave  me  a  chilly  stare.  "  My  price  of  two  thousand 
dollars  was  on  the  lot — not  merely  the  wood  on  the  lot. 
Thfe  land  will  be  yours  when  we  have  passed  our  papers. 
I  don't  know  why  I  should  place  myself  under  obligations 
to  you  by  any  such  foolish  child's  play  as  you  suggest." 

Say,  I  felt  myself  slipping  out  of  the  Kingsley  family 
circle  as  if  I  were  going  down  a  cellar  slide  in  a  puddle  of 
soft  soap.  I  made  a  desperate  clutch. 

"Judge  Kingsley,"  I  said,  "I  made  you  another  offer 
last  night.  I  offered  to  turn  the  whole  proposition  over 
to  you — profits  and  all !  I  had  no  business  starting  in  on 
the  operation.  If  you  are  in  some  sort  of  trouble — " 

"Who  said  I  was  in  trouble?" 

"You  said  so  last  evening,"  I  faltered. 

"Have  you  told  anybody  I  said  so,  sir?"  he  demanded, 
sharply. 

"No,  sir!    Certainly  not." 

"If  you  permit  yourself  to  hint  that  to  anybody  I 
shall  promptly  brand  you  as  a  falsifier  and  have  you  before 
the  court  on  the  charge  of  slander.  You  must  realize  that 
I  could  secure  large  damages  because  a  financial  man's 
reputation  forms  his  stock  in  trade.  I  could  have  you  sent 
to  prison  on  a  criminal  charge." 

"  I  don't  see  any  need  of  your  sitting  there  and  threaten- 

160 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

ing  me  in  that  fashion,"  I  protested,  with  some  heat. 
"I  have  tried  to  help  you — " 

"I  have  not  asked  for  any  of  your  help — I  do  not  need 
it,  sir." 

"I  don't  suppose  you  do,"  I  admitted,  sourly. 

"Certainly  not!" 

I  couldn't  figure  what  his  game  was — it  was  his  own 
business,  anyway — but  I  did  not  propose  to  have  him 
sneering  at  me.  His  manner  when  he  said,  "Certainly 
not!"  was  mighty  nasty.  I  rose  and  kicked  my  chair 
away  from  me. 

"You  needn't  show  any  gratitude  if  you  don't  feel 
like  it,  Judge  Kingsley.  You'll  never  hear  a  word  from  me 
about  anything  that  has  happened,  but  I'm  not  keeping 
still  because  you  have  threatened  me.  I'm  keeping  my 
mouth  shut  because  I'm  man  enough  to  do  so!  And,  by 
gad!  I  hope  you're  man  enough,  on  your  side,  to  show  me 
a  little  decency  and  to  remember  that  you  have  a  wife 
and  daughter  to  protect  from  scandal  and  shame.  Good 
day!"  I  put  on  my  hat  and  marched  out. 

I'm  making  due  allowance  for  the  judge's  state  of  mind, 
but  truly  that  old  hyampus  did  have  the  natural  ability 
to  stir  a  man's  temper.  A  Kingsley  and  a  Sidney  got 
along  together  about  as  well  as  the  two  parts  of  a  Seidlitz 
powder  do  when  they  meet  in  a  glass  of  water! 

I  slammed  the  door  after  me,  but  I  had  gone  only  a 
few  feet  when  I  remembered  that  I  had  left  behind  my 
contracts.  Furthermore,  I  had  not  finished  my  business 
in  regard  to  the  deed  and  the  payments.  So  I  whirled  and 
went  back  in  without  stopping  to  knock. 

It  was  as  if  he  had  been  playing  a  part  with  me  with  a 
mask  to  hide  his  face!  He  had  laid  down  the  mask. 

I  looked  on  a  fairly  hideous  scroll  of  awful,  utter  woe. 
That  was  his  face.  He  was  crumpled  down  in  his  chair. 
He  did  not  look  at  me.  I  picked  up  the  packet. 

"Are  you  ready  to  attend  to  the  matter  of  the  deed,  sir?" 

He  wagged  his  head  weakly  from  side  to  side.  "Later!" 

161 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

he  muttered.     "Come  later.     Come  this  evening,  per- 
haps." 

I  went  down  into  the  woods  and  hunted  for  hours 
until  I  found  those  two  revolvers.  That  face  of  his  was 
before  me  all  the  time.  I  expected  to  look  up  and  find 
him  hunting,  too.  There  were  other  ways  of  committing 
suicide  than  by  shooting,  but  I  did  not  propose  to  leave 
those  revolvers  around  loose,  seeing  that  he  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  use  that  means  of  shuffling  off.  That  face 
which  he  had  exposed  to  me  showed  that  Judge  Kingsley's 
soul  was  near  the  limit  of  endurance. 

I  went  about  that  day  sick  with  fear.  My  helplessness 
in  the  matter  was  maddening.  He  was  holding  me  off 
with  his  disdain  like  a  man  holding  an  enemy  at  bay  with 
a  pitchfork.  And  I  knew  that  even  if  he  gave  me  his 
confidence  there  was  little  a  poor  devil  of  my  caliber  could 
do  in  affairs  such  as  his  must  be. 

I  wondered  if  the  knowledge  that  he  was  ruined  was 
behind  his  desperate  resolve  to  die.  Of  course  he  had  a 
lot  of  pride,  but  other  proud  men  had  failed  in  business 
and  lived  through  it. 

I  was  obliged  to  confess  to  myself  that  the  judge  must 
have  a  deeper  motive.  I  remembered  my  uncle's  threats 
and  wondered  what  that  disturber  had  up  his  sleeve. 

I  almost  whipped  my  courage  up  to  the  point  of  tackling 
him  on  the  subject,  but  when  I  met  him  on  the  street  in 
the  afternoon  and  fronted  his  savage  scowl  I  walked  right 
on  past,  minding  my  own  little  business.  His  face  had 
an  extra  touch  of  flame  in  it  that  day.  That  he  had 
something  special  on  the  docket  was  plain  to  be  seen.  I 
went  down  to  the  wood-lot  and  checked  up  with  Henshaw 
Hook  so  as  to  be  out  of  my  uncle's  way.  His  looks 
rather  scared  me.  Just  as  I  was  walking  away  from  the 
wood-lot  at  dusk  he  hopped  out  of  his  wagon  ahead  of  me 
and  tacked  a  printed  paper  to  a  wayside  tree,  glowering 
at  me  while  I  waited  at  a  little  distance.  It  was  evident 
that  he  meant  that  paper  especially  for  my  attention. 

162 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

So  I  walked  up  and  had  a  look  at  it  when  he  was  out 
of  the  way. 

It  called  a  special  town  meeting  thirty  days  from  that 
date.  As  was  necessary  in  a  call  of  that  sort,  the  purpose 
of  the  meeting  was  stated:  "To  see  what  action  the  town 
will  take  to  pay  off  its  indebtedness  in  full.  Notice  is 
hereby  given  that  all  creditors  of  the  town  must  present 
notes  or  other  evidences  of  claims  at  that  meeting  on 
the  1 5th  day  of  April." 

What  did  that  call  signify  in  the  case  of  Zebulon  Kings- 
ley,  town  treasurer?  I  had  seen  behind  his  mask  and  I 
guessed !  If  I  guessed  rightly  he  would  feel,  when  his  eyes 
fell  on  that  paper,  like  a  man  who  had  been  notified  of 
the  date  of  his  execution. 

I  started  on  toward  the  village,  and  when  I  passed 
Brickett's  duck -pond  I  threw  the  revolvers  into  the  water. 

I  hurried  to  Judge  Kingsley's  house,  for  I  had  the  excuse 
of  business,  and  he  himself  had  made  the  appointment. 
There  was  a  light  in  his  office,  but  it  went  out  suddenly 
when  I  was  some  distance  away.  I  started  to  run,  and 
then  I  checked  myself.  I  decided  that  caution  rather  than 
haste  was  needed.  I  was  right.  Standing  behind  a  tree, 
I  saw  him  come  out  of  the  office  door  in  a  sneaking  fashion, 
the  early  evening  hiding  him.  He  went  around  the  house, 
and  I  followed.  Young  eyes  can  see  in  the  dark  better 
than  old  ones,  and  he  did  not  spy  me  where  I  stood  in  the 
dusk,  watching  him  hack  off  with  a  jack-knife  a  section  of 
the  family  clothes-line. 

Stooping  and  almost  staggering  he  went  down  into  the 
orchard,  and  I  trod  close  behind  him  undetected,  for  the 
trees  plastered  shadows  into  which  I  dodged.  I  waited 
until  he  had  settled  a  noose  around  his  neck  and  had 
thrown  an  end  of  the  cord  over  a  limb.  I  was  taking  no 
chances  on  having  any  misunderstanding  between  Judge 
Kingsley  and  myself  that  trip.  In  my  own  way  I  was  just 
about  as  desperate  as  he  was.  I  marched  up  to  him,  took 
him  by  both  arms  and  pushed  him  against  the  tree-trunk. 

163 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

He  was  in  such  a  state,  physically  and  mentally,  that 
he  did  not  protest  or  resist;  it  did  not  seem  to  frighten 
him  specially  to  be  overhauled  in  that  fashion.  Honestly, 
I  felt  like  spanking  his  face  as  I  would  have  whipped  a 
child.  This  game  of  "tag  the  suicide"  was  getting  on  my 
nerves. 

"Judge  Kingsley,  you  need  a  guardian  and  I  have 
appointed  rrtyself  one,"  I  told  him,  and  I  was  mighty 
resolute,  for  I  had  determined  to  brace  up  to  him  with  all 
the  power  in  me.  "You  have  no  right  to  kill  yourself, 
and  you're  not  going  to  kill  yourself,  by  gad!  not  if  I 
have  to  camp  with  you  day  and  night  till  you  get  back 
your  nerve.  I'm  going  to  take  you  straight  to  your  folks 
and  tell  'em  you're  out  of  your  head  temporarily  and  will 
have  to  be  taken  to  a  hospital!" 

That  brought  him  out  of  his  numbness,  and  I  knew  it 
would.  I  believe  he  would  have  struck  me  if  his  arms  had 
been  free.  But  I  needed  to  have  him  in  another  mood 
than  the  fighting  one.  I  hit  him  hard. 

"You're  an  embezzler!"  I  cracked  out.    "How  much?" 

He  crumpled,  and  I  let  him  slide  down  and  sit  on  the 
ground,  his  back  against  the  tree.  It  was  the  first  time 
he  had  ever  had  that  word  put  to  him  from  man's  mouth, 
even  though  he  may  have  confessed  to  himself  in  his  heart. 

"Judge  Kingsley,"  I  said,  bravely,  knowing  that  I  had 
an  advantage  from  then  on,  "I'm  only  a  young  man  and 
I  know  you  don't  think  much  of  me.  But  I'm  going  to 
grab  in  on  this  thing,  whether  you  want  me  to  or  not. 
I  have  special  reasons  of  my  own.  I'll  do  everything  I 
can  to  balk  my  uncle." 

"You're  a  spy  he  has  set  on  me!" 

"You're  a  liar!"  I  wasn't  going  to  take  any  of  his 
sneers  or  his  abuse.  I  hated  to  talk  to  him  as  I  did,  but 
only  by  being  coarse  and  rough  and  bossy  could  I  hope 
to  pound  anything  helpful  into  him. 

He  stared  up  at  me  with  his  jaw  hanging  down  and  I 
did  not  let  up  on  my  punches. 

164 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"I  have  tried  to  head  off  my  uncle  Deck.  I  have  told 
him  straight  out  that  I  am  for  you  and  against  him.  He 
and  I  don't  speak  to  each  other.  I  have  promised  your 
wife  and  your  daughter  that  I'll  do  everything  I  can  to 
beat  my  uncle  out  in  this  thing.  They  don't  understand 
it!  I  don't  understand  it  all.  But,  before  God,  my  prom- 
ise to  them  is  holy,  even  if  you  do  not  believe  in  me! 
I'm  in  this  affair  and  I'm  in  to  stay." 

He  began  to  wag  his  head  as  he  had  done  before  that  day. 

"Brace  up,  Judge  Kingsley!    You're  not  licked  yet!" 

"Those  three  selectmen  have  signed  my  death-warrant. 
That  notice  which  has  been  posted!" 

I  saw  that  I  had  him  going  and  I  kept  him  going. 
"But  when  an  embezzler  stays  alive  and  does  his  best  to 
straighten  matters — " 

"Don't  call  me  that  name!"  he  groaned. 

"If  you  will  take  me  into  your  confidence,  Judge  Kings- 
ley,  so  that  I  can  turn  to  and  help  you,  I  swear  before 
Almighty  Jehovah  that  I  will  set  to  work  for  you  with 
body  and  soul.  I  can  help  you — I  know  I  can  help.  No 
man  can  feel  as  I  feel  and  be  useless !  But  let  me  tell  you 
this  much  on  the  other  side!"  I  bent  down  and  snapped 
my  finger  under  his  nose.  That  was  no  time  for  half-way 
and  mealy-mouthed  stuff.  "If  you  throw  me  down  after 
this  honest  offer,  it  means  that  you  think  I'm  too  cheap 
to  be  of  use  and  too  low  to  associate  with.  And  that's 
an  insult  I'll  never  swallow!  So  help  me,  I'll  drag  you 
up  into  the  village  with  that  rope  around  your  neck  and 
blow  the  whole  business  and  hand  you  over  to  those  who 
will  take  care  of  you.  I  will!  My  mind  is  made  up. 
Take  your  choice!" 

I  am  sure  that  with  no  less  bitter  alternative  could  I 
have  jounced  any  of  his  secrets  out  of  Zebulon  Kingsley. 

"I'm  just  enough  of  a  hellion  to  do  that  very  thing  if 
you  don't  treat  me  right,"  I  warned  him,  angrily. 

"You  leave  me  no  choice  in  the  matter,"  he  mourned. 
"  You  are— " 

165 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"Look  out,  sir!  I'm  doing  what  I'm  doing  out  of  pure 
and  honest  desire  to  help  you.  I  want  fair  treatment." 

"Nothing  can  make  my  situation  worse  than  it  is,  I 
suppose,"  he  stated,  after  meditating  for  a  time.  "On 
the  fifteenth  day  of  April  it  will  become  known  in  town 
meeting  that  more  than  ten  thousand  dollars  of  town  notes 
are  out,  drawing  interest  and  bearing  my  name  as  town 
treasurer.  I  have  issued  those  notes  without  warrant." 

"But  the  people  who  hold  them  know  they  are  out!" 

He  was  coldly,  numbly  patient  with  me,  the  untamed 
animal  who  had  promised  to  pounce  on  him  and  drag  him 
to  his  shame  in  the  village. 

"I  have  borrowed  the  money  in  various  small  lots 
and  in  each  case  the  note-holder  is  keeping  absolutely  still 
in  order  to  escape  taxation." 

"But  great  Scott!  Judge  Kingsley,  ten  thousand  dollars 
for  a  rich  man  like  you — " 

"  I  am  no  longer  rich.  I  am  ruined.  I  cannot  take  up 
those  town  notes  prior  to  the  meeting.  So  I  shall  be  ar- 
rested as  a  criminal!  I  have  lost  money  intrusted  to  me 
for  investment,  but  though  I  have  lost  it  I  cannot  be 
prosecuted  criminally — it  was  breach  of  trust.  I  hoped  to 
get  money  to  stave  off  exposure  in  the  criminal  matter 
so  that  I  could  set  myself  to  earning  more  money  and  re- 
storing what  I  owe  to  the  investors.  But  I  have  not  been 
able  to  raise  that  money.  That's  why  I  decided  to  kill 
myself.  I  knew  I  couldn't  face  it!" 

"Did  you  just  find  out  that  you  couldn't  raise  the 
money,  sir?" 

He  looked  up  at  me,  shame  and  agony  in  his  face  show- 
ing even  in  the  dark.  It  began  to  swell  in  him — I  could 
see  it  in  his  eyes — that  longing  which  comes  to  every  man 
in  deep  trouble — the  wild  hankering  to  confide  in  some- 
body— to  rush  into  confession,  to  unload  the  heart,  to 
speak  the  words  which  have  been  pressing  to  the  lips.  I 
was  only  Ross  Sidney,  to  be  sure,  but  I  was  a  man  and 
Tudge  Kingsley  had  been  bottling  his  grief  for  a  long  time. 

166 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"What  I  did  last  was  worst  of  all!  Nobody  could  have 
convinced  me  that  I  would  ever  do  such  a  piece  of  folly. 
Think  of  me  doing  such  a  thing — a  man  used  to  the  ways 
of  money!  A  financier!  Oh,  I  have  been  dreading  the 
scorn,  the  sneers,  the  ridicule  more  than  I  have  dreaded 
the  exposure  of  my  town  notes!  I  want  to  die!" 

"What  have  you  done,  sir?" 

' '  My  investments  were  good  in  years  past !  I  knew  how 
to  handle  money — but  what  I  did  a  few  days  ago!" 

"What  was  it,  Judge?"  He  had  been  hesitating  be- 
tween his  declarations,  and  therefore  I  kept  prodding  him. 
But  confession  of  his  last  affair  seemed  to  stick  in  his 
throat. 

"Oh,  I  am  not  guilty — I  am  not  ashamed  because  I 
lost  money  in  my  investments!  The  pirates  who  have 
manipulated  this  country's  industrials  and  wrecked  the 
railroads  are  the  guilty  ones — they  should  be  ashamed  of 
what  they  did  to  the  honest  investors!  But  that  I  should 
run  the  scale  of  speculation  as  I  have — to  the  depths! 
Down,  down,  as  I  got  more  desperate!  And  that  I 
should  do  what  I  have  just  done  when  I  was  most  des- 
perate— when  your  uncle  was  rushing  me  toward  a  cell 
door!" 

He  twisted  his  fingers  together  and  cracked  his  knuckles. 

I  felt  like  a  man  waiting  for  a  woodchuck  to  come  out 
of  his  hole — getting  an  occasional  glimpse  of  a  nose  and 
seeing  it  everlastingly  dodging  back. 

"But  I  had  to  have  money  quick.  I  had  lost  my  grip. 
I  could  not  raise  more  money  in  a  regular  way.*' 

"When  I  was  in  the  city  I  heard  swindlers  talk  about 
such  men,  sir.  There  are  blacklegs  who  go  about  the  coun- 
try hunting  for  such  men.  Have  you  been  swindled?" 

"Foully— vilely!" 

"How?" 

He  hooked  his  fingers  inside  his  collar  as  if  speech  had 
stuck  in  his  throat. 

"Laugh!"  he  advised  me.    He  was  as  hoarse  as  a  crow 

12  167 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

and  looked  as  crazy  as  a  coot.  "Go  ahead  and  laugh! 
I  may  as  well  get  used  to  the  ridicule." 

"I  don't  feel  much  like  laughing  at  anything  these 
days,  Judge  Kingsley.  I  wish  that  you  could  understand 
me  better  and  know  how  sorry — " 

"Yes,  and  you  and  everybody  else  will  pity  me  as  a 
fool  to  be  classed  in  with  the  other  fools  who  are  gulled 
by  the  shell-and-pea  game." 

"For  the  sake  of  Mike,  what  have  you  done?"  I  de- 
manded with  a  bit  of  temper,  for  I  was  in  no  frame  of 
mind  to  guess  riddles. 

"I — Zebulon  Kingsley — a  financier,  a  man  supposed  to 
be  in  his  right  mind,"  he  squealed,  beating  his  breast  as 
he  struggled  to  his  feet,  "I  bought  a  gold  brick'." 


XV 

A  TIP   FROM   MR.    DAWLIN 

WHILE  I  blinked  at  Zebulon  Kingsley  through  the 
gloom  I  remembered  what  "Cricket"  Welch  had 
once  said  to  me,  in  one  of  those  sessions  where  I  lapped  up 
information  as  greedily  as  a  kitten  laps  milk.  He  had  a 
flow  of  language,  "Cricket"  had,  and  I  wish  I  could  re- 
member his  words  more  accurately.  But  it  was  something 
like  this: 

"Why  should  any  crook  bring  on  brain-fag  by  thinking 
up  new  ones  when  the  old  ones,  with  gears  smoothed  by 
twenty-five  centuries  of  steady  operation,  work  so  much 
better?  As  long  ago  as  old  Solomon  was  figuring  on  Tem- 
ple estimates  with  the  architects,  and  had  quite  a  reputa- 
tion in  the  country  round  about,  a  little  chap  dropped 
into  a  village  outside  of  Babylon  and  gave  out  that  he  was 
The  Old  Boy's  son  by  Wife  411,  and  was  interested  in 
King  Solomon's  mines  along  with  his  dad.  Then  he 
unloaded  a  gold  brick  on  to  a  village  sucker,  first  making 
the  sucker  believe  that  the  latter  was  a  buttonhole  relation 
of  the  Solomon  family." 

I  was  running  that  speech  over  in  my  mind  while  I 
looked  at  the  judge,  a  little  uncertain  what  to  say  to  him 
under  the  circumstances. 

"And  yet,  the  fraud  did  not  seem  to  be  barefaced 
while  they  were  at  work  on  me,"  lamented  the  old  gen- 
tleman. "One  of  them,  the  one  who  came  to  town  first, 
was  the  son  of  one  of  my  old  schoolmates  who  went  West 
when  he  was  young  and  has  been  settled  there  ever  since. 

169 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

Young  Blake  was  East  on  business  and  dropped  into 
Levant  to  look  the  old  town  over;  his  father  told  him 
to  make  himself  known  to  me,  so  that  he  could  carry  back 
news  of  the  folks  his  father  used  to  know  here." 

And  in  my  book  of  notes  I  had  set  down  the  detail  of 
just  such  a  scheme  as  that! 

"They  always  have  a  skirmisher  ahead  of  the  main 
push,"  I  blurted.  "He  finds  out  about  somebody  who 
settled  West — and  then  along  comes  the  son." 

"What's  that?"  demanded  Kingsley.  "What  do  you 
know  about  it?" 

"Then,  after  the  son  is  well  settled,  along  comes  one 
of  father's  partners,  East,  to  sell  stock,  and  he  has  a  sample 
of  the  clean-up — a  big  hunk  of  gold — and  it's  always  a 
real  ingot,  too." 

"It  was  real,"  insisted  the  judge,  passionately.  "I 
went  to  the  city  and  had  it  tested  by  a  jeweler  who  is  a 
friend  of  mine.  They  offered  me  a  chance  to  make  money 
on  account  of  my  old  friendship.  It  did  not  seem  like  a 
gold-brick  game.  I  could  not  believe  it  was.  I  did  not 
dare  to  believe  it  was.  I  needed  money  so  badly!" 

"But  it  was,  sir." 

"I  mortgaged,  I  borrowed,  I  pawned!  They  offered 
me  a  chance  to  make  money  because  I  was  a  prominent 
man  and  could  help  them  sell  their  stock.  They  wanted 
me  to  be  sure  that  the  proposition  was  a  good  one — that 
the  gold  was  honest.  They  took  my  last  five  thousand 
dollars!  My  God!  I  bought  a  gold  brick!  I  bought  it 
like  other  fools  have  bought." 

"They  always  put  new  trimmings  on  the  old  game, 
Judge  Kingsley,  and  make  it  look  attractive." 

He  looked  at  me  strangely  and  did  not  answer. 

"I  suppose  they  worked  it  as  usual,"  I  went  on,  feeling 
just  a  bit  proud  of  my  knowledge.  I  reflected  that  he 
might  be  more  thankful  for  his  volunteer  if  I  showed  him 
that  I  was  no  greenhorn.  His  mouth  had  been  running 
away  with  him  in  his  wild  eagerness  to  unload  the  sor- 

170 


WHERE   YOUR  TREASURE   IS 

rows  from  his  soul.  All  at  once  he  was  showing  symptoms 
of  stiffening  a  bit,  as  if  he  wondered  why  he  had  opened 
his  heart  to  such  a  one  as  Ross  Sidney. 

I  needed  all  his  confidence — the  flow  was  lessening — 
and  so  I  "shot  the  well,"  as  the  oil  fellows  say. 

"After  they  had  given  you  all  kinds  of  nice  entertain- 
ment in  the  city,  you  started  for  home  and  opened  your 
package  on  the  train  and  found  a  lead  junk  and  a  letter 
advising  you  to  go  home  and  keep  still  and  never  believe 
strangers  again." 

"That  letter — that  insult!"  he  gasped. 

"They  told  you  they  were  starting  straight  for  Europe, 
and  they — " 

"So  that  is  what  you  were  in  the  city  for,  eh?  A  black- 
leg— one  of  them!  Your  brazen  cheek — your  flashy 
clothes — " 

"No,  Judge  Kingsley,  I  never  tried  to  sell  gold  bricks. 
But  it  came  my  way  to  find  out  a  lot  about  those  fellows 
who  do  sell  them." 

"Yes,  you  flashy  cheat!"  he  snarled.  "You  are  like 
that  other  one!  Waistcoats  like  chromos!  Tricked  out 
with  gewgaws — airs  of  a  peacock!" 

That  last  word  sent  a  thrill  through  me,  put  an  idea 
into  my  head. 

"Was  he  a  big  man,  Judge  Kingsley?  Was  his  name 
Pratt?" 

"No." 

"But  he  brought  the  gold!  He  claimed  to  be  the 
partner.  He  had  a  smear  like  grease  across  his  cheek — 
a  scar.  He — " 

"You  seem  to  know  your  confederates  very  well,  sir." 

"Judge  Kingsley,  you  listen  to  me!  I  have  never  seen 
those  men  face  to  face,  but  I  have  heard  of  them.  I  have 
heard  of  their  tricks.  I  know  how  they  operate.  I  know 
a  good  many  of  their  lurking-places.  I  have  made  it  my 
business  to  know!"  I  noted  that  he  was  still  suspicious, 
and  I  put  my  face  close  to  his  and  lied  with  all  the  fervor 

171 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

that  was  in  me.  I  needed  his  confidence,  I  say.  "I  did 
work  as  a  detective  until  the  dirty  mess  of  crooks  made  me 
sick  of  the  job.  I  can  help  you  in  this  thing!  Depend 
on  me!  I'm  going  to  help!" 

"I  have  about  given  up  belief  in  everything!" 

"Give  me  your  hand,  sir,  and  promise  me  you'll  offer  a 
good  front  to  the  world.  Nobody  must  guess  that  you're 
in  difficulties.  As  for  the  noises  my  uncle  is  making, 
he  has  never  said  anything  definite;  he  is  merely  making 
threats.  Everybody  knows  about  his  grudge  and  folks 
don't  take  much  stock  in  him.  If  you  keep  a  stiff  upper 
lip  nobody  will  guess." 

"But  they  all  will  know  on  the  fifteenth  of  April." 

"If  we  can  grab  in  ten  thousand  dollars  before  then — " 

"  Do  you  stand  there,  young  man,  and  tell  me  you  have 
the  crazy  idea  that  you  can  pull  any  of  my  money  back 
from  those  scoundrels?" 

"Yes,  and  more  with  it,"  I  returned,  much  more  bold 
in  my  tone  than  I  was  in  my  heart.  But  when  I  knew 
that  I  had  the  "Peacock"  Pratt  gang  identified — and 
probably  had  located  Jeff  Dawlin's  brother  as  the  man 
who  planted  the  fraud,  posing  as  the  son,  his  usual  r61e, 
certain  wild  hopes  and  dizzy  schemes  went  to  whirling  in 
my  head. 

"We  ought  to  have  three  thousand  in  cash  in  a  short 
time  to — " 

"A  client — a  widow  is  pressing  me  for  money.  It 
amounts  to  about  that  sum,"  he  said,  dolefully. 

' '  Does  she  suspect — ' ' 

"No,  no!"  he  snapped,  irritably.  "She  is  going  to  be 
married  again,  the  fool,  and  wants  to  hand  it  to  her  new 
husband."  He  showed  a  flicker  of  pride  in  the  midst  of 
his  troubles.  "There  is  nobody  calling  Zebulon  Kingsley 
a  thief  as  yet,  except  himself  and  your  uncle.  /  know  that 
I  am  and  he  suspects,"  he  added,  bitterly. 

"  Then  the  woman  must  have  her  money,  sir.  We  must 
keep  everybody  from  even  suspecting  for  a  time." 

172 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  took  both  his  hands  in  mine.  He  did  need  comfort 
and  sympathy,  even  such  as  I  could  offer  him. 

"I'm  square  with  you,  Judge  Kingsley.  I  know  how 
to  find  those  men.  I'll  go  after  them.  And  I  know 
you'll  do  your  part  to  help  me.  I  only  ask  you  to  buck 
up!  Let  nobody  suspect!" 

"  I  ought  to  doubt  every  man  in  the  world  after  what  I 
have  been  through !  I  ought  to  doubt  you!  Why  are  you 
doing  all  this  for  me,  sir?"  he  demanded,  and  then  I  was 
glad  it  was  dark  there  under  the  tree.  I  must  have 
revealed  confusion  aplenty.  "I  have  never  shown  you 
any  favors,  young  man.  It  has  been  the  other  way.  I 
never  liked  your  breed." 

"I  know  that,  Judge  Kingsley,  but — "  I  could  not 
go  any  further  at  the  moment. 

"Well?" 

"You  see,"  I  gulped,  "when  I  was  a  little  shaver  you 
gave  me  a  quarter  and  I  bought  a  catechism  and  studied 
it  and — I  guess — I'm  quite  sure — it  made  a  better  boy, 
and—" 

It  wasn't  convincing,  that  talk  wasn't!  He  caught  me 
up  sharply: 

"The  truth  isn't  in  you,  young  Sidney!" 

"You  told  me  that  once  before.  And  it  has  been  my 
ambition  to  show  you  that  you  were  wrong." 

"Bah!  I  know  human  nature  too  well  to  believe  any 
such  rot." 

"But  you  always  stood  up  in  Sunday-school,  sir,  and 
told  us  about  Christian  charity  and  meekness  and  for- 
giveness. You  believe  in  all  that,  don't  you?" 

"  I  have  no  confidence  in  you — not  now!" 

"Not  when  I'm  trying  to  prove  to  you  that  I'm  one  of 
those  practical  Christians?" 

"Do  not  insult  me  with  any  more  of  that  balderdash, 
sir!" 

I  had  just  as  much  of  nasty  temper  as  he  had,  and  mine 
began  to  flare  up  in  me.  I  knew  that  my  motives  were 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

all  right,  though  I  did  not  dare  to  reveal  them  to  him — 
and  my  innocence  made  me  the  more  angry. 

"You  would  have  made  a  big  hit  with  the  good  Samari- 
tan when  he  came  along  and  offered  his  help  after  you  had 
fallen  among  thieves,"  I  snapped.  "I  reckon  you  have 
never  practised  any  of  the  charity  you  have  preached. 
I  have  never  preached,  but  I  am  practising!  You  don't 
seem  to  recognize  your  own  religion  when  you  see  it  acted 
out  instead  of  being  merely  printed  in  a  book!" 

"You're  a  renegade,  convicting  yourself  out  of  your 
own  mouth!" 

Oh,  what  was  the  use !  I  walked  off  a  little  way.  Then 
I  turned  on  him. 

"I  have  my  own  reasons  for  wanting  to  help  you, 
Judge  Kingsley,  no  matter  what  you  believe  about  me. 
But  if  you  feel  as  you  talk,  you  can  go  to  blazes  just 
as  soon  as  you  like.  I'm  not  going  to  try  to  round 
up  all  the  revolvers,  ropes,  and  razors  in  this  town. 
That  rope  you  have  there  seems  to  be  a  good  strong 
one.  Go  as  far  as  you  like!  And  I'll  keep  on  in  my 
way  and  will  turn  the  money  over  to  your  estate — to 
your  wife  and  your  daughter.  You  are  not  the  first 
coward  who  has  knocked  out  the  last  prop  and  sluiced 
all  the  mess  on  to  his  women  folks!  Go  on!  I'll  be 
furnishing  your  wife  bread  and  butter  while  you're  hav- 
ing insomnia  in  hell!" 

Then  I  went  back  to  the  tavern. 

I  knew  well  enough  that  Zebulon  Kingsley  would  not 
kill  himself  that  night.  In  the  first  place,  he  was  too  mad. 
He  came  behind  me,  chattering  his  teeth  like  an  angry 
squirrel.  Then,  again,  I  had  stirred  his  curiosity,  even  if 
I  had  not  given  him  any  special  hope.  And  my  threat 
about  handling  his  money  after  he  had  gone  was  enough 
to  keep  Zebulon  Kingsley  hanging  around  on  top  of  the 
earth  for  a  time.  I  knew  his  nature  mighty  well.  I 
would  have  taken  those  means  with  him  at  first,  but  I 
had  been  hoping  that  he  would  accept  me  on  a  friendlier 

174 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

basis  where  I  might  coddle  my  hopes;  and  here  was  I 
handling  him  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck ! 

I  caught  a  glimpse  of  Celene  through  the  sitting-room 
window  when  I  passed  the  house.  The  light  was  behind 
her  and  her  hair  was  like  an  angel's  halo.  Ah !  there  was 
the  inspiration  which  was  keeping  me  on  the  lunatic's 
job  I  had  picked  out  for  myself!  As  for  that  old  horn- 
beam father,  I  was  in  a  state  of  fury  which  prompted  me 
to  go  back,  use  his  ears  for  handles,  and  kick  him  around 
his  premises  until  he  promised  to  behave  himself — and 
give  me  his  daughter  when  my  task  was  finished.  Well, 
at  least  I  had  reached  one  interesting  stage  in  my  develop- 
ment— I  was  acting  as  guardian  of  the  high  and  mighty 
Zebulon  Kingsley  and  was  rather  despising  my  ward! 

That  evening  I  sat  till  late  and  went  through  my  note- 
book and  studied  the  affiliations,  the  methods,  the  lurking- 
places  and  all  other  information  I  had  recorded  in  regard 
to  one  "Peacock"  Pratt  and  his  associates. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  a  pretty  good  start  on  the 
thing,  even  though  the  future  was,  as  Jodrey  Vose  used 
to  say  of  dock  water,  in  a  "nebulous  and  gummy  condi- 
tion." 

But  I  went  to  bed,  nevertheless,  in  a  considerably 
exalted  state  of  mind.  With  every  day  that  passed  I  was 
getting  farther  into  the  affairs  of  the  Kingsley  family — 
and  getting  into  those  affairs — 

I  dreamed  of  Celene  that  night,  but  that  was  not  a  mat- 
ter for  special  record;  I  dreamed  of  her  every  night. 

In  the  morning  I  put  on  a  business  suit  I  had  bought 
"off  the  pile"  in  Mechamcsville.  I  had  wanted  to  show 
Levant  that  I  had  more  than  one  suit  of  clothes.  I 
reckoned  that  I  would  feel  more  sane  and  solid  in  that 
suit.  And  I  did  feel  that  way  when  I  went  down  to 
breakfast.  If  ever  a  man  had  business  ahead  of  him  I 
was  that  one! 

But  that  sane  and  normal  feeling  did  not  sit  well  on 
my  conscience.  I  found  myself  brooding  and  getting 

175 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

depressed.  I  wondered  why  I  had  felt  so  exalted  and 
optimistic  the  night  before.  How  could  I  have  made  such 
confident  promises  to  Kingsley? 

While  I  sawed  at  that  prosaic  hunk  o'  ham  the  notion 
of  chasing  up  those  knaves  and  getting  my  clutch  on  that 
stolen  money — or  any  other  money — seemed  just  a  hope- 
less dream.  It  was  surely  a  crazy  idea;  I  sat  there  and 
looked  down  into  my  plate  and  so  decided.  For  all  of  a 
quarter-hour  I  mulled  and  gloomed  there,  wondering  what 
had  happened  to  make  me  so  dull  and  disheartened  and 
doped.  I  woke  up  to  what  the  matter  was — woke  all 
of  a  sudden.  It  was  that  blamed  ready-made  suit  of 
clothes ! 

I  was  simply  plain  Ross  Sidney !  I  was  right  down  on  the 
plane  of  all  the  men  around  me.  I  looked  like  a  tank- 
town  commercial  drummer  and  felt  like  one.  I  had  no 
more  imagination  or  horizon  than  a  grocery  clerk.  All 
the  fantastic  spirit  of  adventure  had  gone  out  of  me. 
Perhaps  it  may  be  thought  that  mere  clothes  cannot 
do  all  that  to  a  man!  Well,  wear  overalls  to  the  next 
grand  ball!  I'm  no  psychologist  and  I  have  never  read 
Carlyle's  essay  on  clothes,  though  I  am  told  he  describes 
about  what  I  have  felt.  I'm  merely  saying  this:  when 
I  realized  what  was  the  matter  with  me  and  felt  certain 
that  I  needed  to  be  comfortably  crazy  in  order  to  keep  up 
my  clip — why,  do  you  suppose  I  would  ever  have  tried 
to  bark  in  front  of  that  show  if  I  had  been  dressed  in  a 
sack -suit? 

Yes,  comfortably  crazy! 

I  rushed  up-stairs  and  shifted  to  my  knight-errant 
regalia.  Then  I  went  to  my  job  on  the  run.  I  reckoned 
that  I  was  going  to  be  in  a  devil  of  a  hurry  for  a  while! 

I  galloped  down  to  the  wood-lot,  my  plug-hat  riding 
tilted  back  like  the  funnel  of  a  racing  steamer.  Those 
choppers  were  hearty  and  happy  and  were  hustling  for 
that  bonus;  if  a  few  laggards  needed  pep  I  injected  it. 
I  made  estimates,  got  every  hitch  in  Levant  which  would 

176 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

cart  wood  and  drag  timber  and  started  the  cut  for  the 
railroad. 

The  freight-trains  picked  up  the  gondola  cars  as  they 
were  ready. 

I  rushed  to  the  cities  and  arranged  for  deliveries,  pulled 
down  first  payments  in  good  season  to  settle  wages  for 
a  week,  as  agreed  with  Henshaw  Hook,  and  shuttled 
back  and  forth  until  all  the  cut  was  cleaned  up  on  the 
lot.  Gad!  how  I  was  counting  days!  I  did  not  waste  any- 
time on  Judge  Kingsley.  I  realized  that  the  more  I  kept 
away  from  him,  the  more  I  kept  him  guessing! 

I  grabbed  my  first  opportunity  to  take  a  day  off  the 
job  and  run  down  to  the  big  city;  I  made  that  jump 
from  one  of  the  towns  where  I  was  handling  the  last 
deliveries — for  I  could  not  make  final  collections  until 
the  railroad  completed  its  haul,  and  so  I  had  a  little 
time  to  spare. 

There  was  another  barker  at  the  door  of  Dawlin's 
place,  and  I  noted  with  gratification  that  he  was  a  rather 
seedy  chap.  The  blonde  looked  acutely  surprised  and 
showed  apprehension  when  I  walked  right  in  past  her. 
Plainly,  her  man  had  been  making  some  promises  as  to 
what  he  would  do  to  me  if  I  ever  showed  up  again. 

And  the  first  glance  Dawlin  gave  me  when  he  looked 
up  from  his  gazara  envelopes  showed  that  he  was  quite 
ready  to  keep  his  promises. 

I  beckoned  him  to  his  office  and  walked  in  there  and 
waited  for  him.  He  came  on  the  jump.  He  was  at  me 
almost  before  I  had  time  to  place  my  plug-hat  out  of  the 
way  of  possible  damage. 

When  Mr.  Dawlin  would  close  a  gazara  game  right  at 
a  moment  when  suckers  were  shoving  money  at  him, 
it  was  proof  that  he  was  specially  interested  in  something 
else  which  was  almighty  important.  His  language  when 
he  burst  in  on  me  made  it  plain  that  his  interest  in  me 
was  not  flattering,  though  it  was  intense. 

"Oh,  if  it's  that  little,  foolish,  petty  matter  of  the  few 

177 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

dollars  you  handed  back  to  those  yaps,"  I  broke  in,  after 
I  had  pushed  him  back  with  a  swoop  of  my  arm — and, 
as  I  have  stated,  it  was  a  hard  arm — "here's  your  small 
change." 

In  my  wood  business  I  had  promptly  changed  checks 
into  cash.  I  pulled  out  before  the  lustful  eyes  of  Mr. 
Dawlin  a  roll  of  bills  big  enough  to  make  a  pillow  for  his 
Mormon  Giant,  and  I  carelessly  flipped  the  edges  to  show 
him  they  were  yellowbacks. 

"What  did  the  little  matter  amount  to?"  I  asked, 
airily. 

"Six  and  twenty-two  fifty — and  I  tossed  'em  a  five," 
he  said,  trying  to  make  a  quick  shift  from  passion  to 
pacification. 

"And  I  guess  the  drinks  are  on  me  this  time,  Jeff," 
I  said,  adding  a  ten-dollar  bill  to  the  amount.  "Go 
buy  the  kind  you  like." 

"  But  what  in—  " 

"This  tells  all  the  story,"  I  said,  tapping  the  roll  and 
stuffing  it  back. 

"But  your  partners — leaving  me  in  the  lurch — not  in- 
viting me  in  for  a  drag — " 

"It  had  to  be  a  lone  play,  Jeff — just  had  to  be!  But 
don't  think  I  have  all  the  money  in  the  world  cornered 
in  my  pocket,  even  if  it  looks  like  it.  And  I'm  not  back 
here  simply  to  give  you  a  treat  by  letting  you  look  at  it. 
I  have  located  a  bigger  bundle — but  it  can't  be  coopered 
by  a  lone  play." 

"Job  for  the  gang,  hey?"  he  asked,  almost  drooling. 

"Well,  for  the  right  operators  if  they're  the  real  goods. 
But  no  amateurs,  you  know!" 

"Condemn  it!  I  have  told  you  about  my  brother. 
He's  one  of  the  best  in  the  country !  Has  just  pulled  off  a 
killing — not  very  big,  but  easy  and  profitable." 

"Where?" 

"Nothing  doing  on  the  where!"  replied  Mr.  Dawlin, 
warily.  "That's  all  done  and  the  money  counted.  We 

178 


always  forget  where  as  soon  as  the  money  is  counted." 
He  fingered  his  nose.  "Where  is — "  he  started. 

"Same  tag,"  I  said,  smartly.  "You  forget  and  I  don't 
remember.  All  is,  it's  there  waiting.  Can  we  all  get 
together?" 

"When?" 

"To-day." 

"Blast  it  all!  you  ought  to  know  that  we  can't  all  get 
together  to-day — nor  a  week  from  to-day!"  He  showed 
some  suspicion. 

"  Why  should  I  know  that  ?"    I  looked  him  in  the  eye. 

"When  a  job  is  done  East,  why,  you  know  yourself 
they  all  shoot  West — clear  to  the — 

"You  didn't  tell  me  the  last  job  was  done  East,"  I  said, 
coolly. 

"Well,  it  was.  I  can  say  that  much.  And  they're 
on  their  way  West — they're  going  over  the  Rockies." 

"Then  I  guess  I'll  declare  them  out  on  the  job,  Jeff. 
I'm  in  with  some  of  the  other — " 

"But  that's  no  way  to  use  a  friend  like  I've  been  to 
you !  This  thing  ought  to  be  put  up  to  Ike  and  '  Peacock.' 
You  must  remember  that  I  offered  you  a  lay  with  them! 
I  tried  to  use  you  right.  You  ought  to  show  some  grati- 
tude." 

He  was  fairly  whining  in  his  anxiety,  but  I  was  mighty 
careful  about  showing  any  eagerness  of  my  own.  I 
scratched  my  ear  and  looked  rather  doubtful  and  displayed 
indifference. 

"Of  course  I  can't  write  to  'em — we  never  write, 
especially  soon  after  a  job.  But  I  have  their  bearings, 
Ross.  I  can  put  you  right  on  to  their  trail.  They  have  a 
job  on  below  the  Potlatch  country  in  Idaho.  First 
East  and  then  West — get  the  idea?  It's  something  about 
land — this  operation.  You're  bound  to  bump  into  'em; 
there  are  not  so  many  men  out  there  as  there  are  here." 

"Still,  it  looks  to  me  like  a  wild-goose  chase,"  I  de- 
murred, hoping  to  be  assured  that  it  was  no  such  thing. 

179 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"'Peacock'  isn't  going  to  change  his  style!  He's  too 
far  away  to  be  obliged  to  bother — and  he  sure  does  like 
his  togs!  You  can't  hide  ' Peacock '  Pratt  if  you  surround 
him  with  a  whole  county.  You'll  find  him  easy,  and  my 
brother  will  be  right  on  the  wheel.  Wait!  If  you  don't 
know  that  country  I'll  jot  down  directions  and  names 
for  you — names  of  men  to  ask.  I'll  give  you  a  word  or 
two  for  a  passport!"  He  grabbed  paper  and  pen  and 
began  to  scribble.  "What  extra  the  trip  costs  will  be 
added  to  your  lay.  You'll  find  them  square  if  you  get 
in  with  them,"  he  assured  me  while  he  wrote.  "You 
don't  have  to  discuss  any  lay  for  me.  My  brother  always 
sees  to  it  that  I  get  my  pickings  from  any  job  I  help  him 
to." 

He  fairly  thrust  the  paper  into  my  hands  when  he  had 
finished.  Really,  I  was  more  grateful  inside  than  I  allowed 
to  appear  in  my  thanks.  I  could  hardly  ask  Mr.  Dawlin 
to  do  more  in  setting  me  on  the  trail  of  the  men  I  was 
after.  The  humor  of  the  thing  certainly  did  appeal  to 
me — and  I  needed  a  little  something  for  cheer  just  then. 

Whether  I  would  try  to  pick  their  pockets  when  I 
arrived  up  with  them,  or  knock  them  down  with  a  club, 
or  what  I  would  do  I  left  to  the  future.  I  had  enough  to 
think  of  just  then — that  wood  business  to  wind  up  and 
the  matter  of  the  future  handling  of  Zebulon  Kingsley  to 
attend  to — and  a  crazy  chase  across  the  continent  ahead 
of  me! 

I  tucked  the  paper  deep,  slapped  Mr.  Dawlin  on  the 
back,  and  hustled  for  up-country. 


XVI 

GRABBING  A   HUSBAND  AND   FATHER 

WHEN  I  laid  rising  three  thousand  dollars  in  front 
of  Zebulon  Kingsley  on  his  office  table  as  my 
card  of  reintroduction  to  that  glum  gentleman,  I  really- 
jumped  him. 

The  money  was  in  bills  and  there  was  a  stack  of  it. 
A  mere  check  would  not  have  been  half  as  impressive. 
A  lot  of  men  in  this  world  are  extravagant  because  they 
pay  by  check;  handling  real  money  makes  one  more 
appreciative  of  values,  I  think. 

"I  have  wound  up  the  wood-lot  proposition  to  the  last 
cent,"  I  informed  him.  "All  collections  made,  all  the 
men  paid,  and  I  hope  you  are  as  well  satisfied  as  the  rest. 
There's  the  cash!" 

"How  much  is  there?"  His  voice  trembled  when  he 
asked  me. 

"Count  it." 

"I'll  take  your  word,  and  later — " 

"You  have  told  me  several  times  that  the  truth  isn't 
in  me.  Count  that  money!  I  insist!"  A  bit  nasty  of 
me,  I  admit,  but  I  had  resolved  to  make  my  bigness 
where  Judge  Kingsley  was  concerned.  I  saw  no  chance 
of  winning  unless  I  made  him  understand  that  I  was  not 
to  be  kicked  around  any  more. 

I  stood  over  him  while  he  counted.  His  bony  fingers 
shook.  Even  though  he  was  handling  money  —  rather 
a  favorite  indoor  sport  of  his — I  knew  he  was  finding 
the  job  a  bitter  one,  with  me  at  his  elbow  and  acting  just 

181 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

as  if  I  belonged  there.    He  jotted  down  amounts  as  he 
counted,  and  then  he  added  the  figures. 

"I  make  it  three  thousand  three  hundred  and  fifty 
four  dollars  and  twenty-nine  cents,"  he  reported. 

"You  are  right,  sir."  I  held  my  little  account-book  in 
front  of  his  nose  and  tapped  my  totals.  "I  did  a  bit 
better  than  I  figured." 

"The  two  thousand  which  belongs  to  me — " 

"There  are  no  divisions  in  that  pile,  sir.  We  are  not 
going  to  have  any  such  argument  as  we  had  once  before 
about  price  and  land  and  deed.  You  need  that  money 
for  immediate  use  and  you're  going  to  take  it.  And  don't 
tell  me  again  that  you  don't  need  my  help.  You  do!" 
Big  talk,  but  he  needed  it!  "But  don't  you  be  afraid 
that  I  shall  ever  twit  you  about  this  help.  Now  is  there 
any  way  of  staving  off  this  widow  who  wants  her  three 
thousand?" 

"No!  I  have  promised  her.  After  what  you  told  me — 
I  reckoned  on — " 

"Ah!  Then  you  have  been  admitting  to  yourself  the 
last  few  days  that  I'm  not  so  much  of  a  renegade  and 
crook,  after  all!" 

His  eyes  shifted.  "You  must  make  allowances  in  my 
case,  Mr.  Sidney!"  That  looked  promising.  He  was 
giving  me  a  handle  for  my  name. 

"Then  we'll  pay  the  widow  so  that  she  will  not  be 
wagging  her  jaw  while  we're  away." 

"While  we're  away?"  he  repeated. 

"Yes,  sir!  You  and  I  are  going  to  start  on  the  trail  of 
that  last  batch  of  money  you  invested." 

"But  we'll  never  get  money  that  way." 

"How  else  are  you  going  to  raise  ten  thousand  dollars 
before  the  fifteenth  of  April?" 

"I  have  no  way  of  raising  it!"  he  lamented. 

"That's  it!  No  sensible,  business  way!  Therefore,  we 
must  do  the  next  best — grab  from  the  men  who  have 
grabbed  from  you.  It's  either  that  or  go  steal  money!" 

182 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  pulled  up  to  the  table  and  before  his  eyes  counted 
back  to  myself  the  money  over  and  above  three  thousand 
dollars.  I  put  it  in  my  pocket. 

"It's  our  common  purse — for  traveling  expenses,"  I 
explained. 

"But  it's — "  he  gasped. 

"Yes,  it's  a  long  journey,  sir.  However,  I  must  go 
and  you  must  go  along  with  me." 

"I  am  not  in  condition  to  travel." 

"I  know  that,  sir,  and  I'm  sorry.  I  wish  I  did  not  need 
you  on  the  job,  but  you  must  be  with  me  in  order  to 
identify  those  men  who  robbed  you.  Your  complaint 
will  put  them  in  the  jug  if  we  can't  scare  them  and  twist 
the  money  out  of  them  in  another  way.  I  can't  do  a 
thing  without  your  presence,  unless  I  catch  up  with  them 
and  knock  them  down.  I  may  just  as  well  stay  East 
here  and  commit  highway  robbery  for  you!" 

I  had  another  reason  for  insisting  on  his  making  the 
trip  with  me,  but  I  kept  it  to  myself.  If  I  left  him  behind 
there  in  Levant  with  my  rambunctious  uncle  barking  at 
his  heels  and  creditors  waking  up  to  suspicions,  I  could 
not  have  one  moment's  peace  of  mind.  I  felt  pretty  sure 
that  he  would  betray  himself  by  face,  his  actions,  or  by 
suicide  or  confession.  He  was  in  no  shape  to  endure 
inquisition  if  he  were  left  where  folks  could  get  at  him. 

"You  must  go,"  I  insisted. 

"Where?" 

"  It's  more  or  less  of  a  blind  run." 

"But  I  must  know." 

"We're  only  wasting  time  by  talking  it  over  ahead, 
Judge  Kingsley,  because  I  don't  know  much  about  the 
trip  myself." 

He  began  to  show  temper,  and  I  could  not  blame  him 
much.  My  comfortable  craziness  which  I  had  put  on 
along  with  my  "dream  suit"  was  helping  a  lot;  the  judge 
was  frostily  sane. 

"The  project  is  crazy,"  he  stormed. 

J3  183 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"So  is  the  fix  you're  in!" 

"I  can  tell  my  wife  and  daughter  nothing  sensible!" 

"As  near  as  I  can  find  out,  sir,  you  have  never  told 
them  anything  special  about  your  business.  Why  begin 
now?" 

"Because  they  are  worried.  My  actions — those 
strangers — " 

"I  know,  sir.  They  told  me.  But  when  you  go  away 
this  time  you'll  be  going  in  my  company  and  that  may  help 
with  them." 

He  gave  me  a  look  which  hinted  that  he  was  not  at  all 
sure  about  that. 

"We  have  been  in  one  business  deal;  it's  easy  to  say 
we're  in  another,"  I  suggested,  choosing  to  overlook  his 
manner. 

But  my  feelings  got  away  from  me  when  he  began  to 
protest  and  argue  and  ask  questions  about  why  and  where 
and  when.  The  balky  old  mule!  And  I  was  giving  him 
my  soul  and  service  free ! 

I  pounded  my  knuckles  on  the  heaped  money.  "We 
are  going  to  leave  this  town  on  the  night  train,  Judge 
Kingsley.  That  gives  you  time  enough  to  settle  with 
the  widow  and  tell  your  folks  something  and  get  them 
calmed  down." 

"Don't  you  dare  to  browbeat  me,  young  man!" 

"Yes,  and  you'll  have  time  to  think  the  thing  over  for 
yourself,  sir,  before  I  call  for  you  with  a  hitch  just  before 
train-time!  There  will  be  no  arguments  then.  I  shall 
expect  you  to  be  all  ready  with  your  bag  in  hand.  Go 
light  on  luggage.  We  shall  go  a  long  way  and  we  shall 
go  in  a  hurry." 

I  left  him  and  went  about  a  few  final  affairs  of  my  own, 
and  when  I  finished  I  was  squared  with  everybody  in 
Levant.  Before  handing  that  money  to  the  judge  I  had 
paid  my  personal  debts — I  felt  that  I  was  entitled  to  that 
much! 

That  evening  Dodovah  Vose  loaned  me  a  hitch  and  a 

184 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

driver  and  clapped  me  on  the  shoulder  with  great  zest 
and  pride. 

"When  the  judge  picked  you  for  a  partner  he  picked 
the  right  one,"  he  declared.  "You  make  a  team  which 
will  bring  this  old  town  up  on  its  feet.  The  judge  needs 
you,  son.  He  has  been  going  behind." 

And  then  once  more  he  tried  to  pump  me  regarding 
this  latest  venture,  for  I  had  purposely  dropped  a  word 
to  him  that  the  judge  and  I  were  off  on  a  big  deal.  I 
knew  that  a  seed  planted  in  Dodovah  Vose  would  bring 
forth  fruit  of  the  sort  the  judge  and  I  needed. 

"You  can  just  hint  to  folks,  if  you  feel  like  it,  Mr.  Vose, 
that  Judge  Kingsley  and  I  have  seen  a  way  to  help  this 
town  very  much."  That  was  true.  "Incidentally,  the 
judge  will  make  a  great  deal  of  money  out  of  certain 
things  where  his  capital  has  been  tied  up." 

"I've  always  said  he  knew  his  business  as  a  financier. 
Some  of  the  old  tom-cats  in  this  town  have  been  prowling 
and  meraouwing  because  he  has  been  tied  up  lately  by 
mortgages;  but  you've  got  to  bait  with  money  to  catch 
money!  Don't  fret,  son.  I'll  hand  'em  out  something 
now  to  warm  their  ear-wax." 

"Oh,  he  knows  how  to  make  money  for  himself  and  for 
other  folks!" 

"Am  I  too  late  to  slip  in  a  few  hundred  on  this  deal?" 
asked  Mr.  Vose,  anxiously. 

It  was  promptly  on  my  tongue,  of  course,  to  put  him 
aside  as  gently  as  possible.  But  I  knew  that  he  had  been 
wondering  why  I  had  not  let  him  in  on  the  thing  before, 
for  truly  he  had  been  my  best  friend  in  that  town.  I  had 
no  good  excuse  to  give  him.  I  needed  his  friendship 
and  his  loyal  good  word  even  more  then  than  in  the 
past,  for  suspicion  was  darkly  brooding  in  Levant.  I 
hated  to  leave  behind  with  him  the  impression  that  I 
would  do  everything  for  Zebulon  Kingsley,  who  had  been 
my  foe,  and  would  not  turn  even  a  little  leak  of  prosperity 
into  an  old  friend's  porringer. 

185 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

While  I  was  struggling  with  my  thoughts — feeling  like 
a  scoundrel  reaching  for  his  brother's  wallet — a  strange 
notion  came  to  me.  It  fitted  in  with  that  comfortable 
craziness  of  mine.  If  I  accepted  his  money,  would  I  not 
be  pledging  my  very  soul  to  do  and  to  dare?  My  devotion 
to  Celene  Kingsley  I  had  set  at  one  side  as  my  true  and 
sacred  motive.  I  was  mighty  sure  that  I  was  not  at  all 
enthusiastic  in  regard  to  her  father.  However,  if  I  took 
Dodovah  Vose's  hard-earned  money  from  his  hands — 
and  taking  it  meant  a  pledge  that  he  was  to  benefit  from 
a  sure  thing — had  I  not  another  sacred  and  even  more 
compelling  motive?  Truly  I  had,  for  my  man's  honor  was 
concerned  as  well  as  my  love  for  a  girl ! 

"What  have  you  handy?"  I  asked. 

"Five  hundred,"  he  said.  " I  ask  no  questions.  I  want 
no  promises.  I  know  you'll  do  your  best  for  me,  son. 
I  hate  to  bother  you — but  profits  come  slow  in  a  country 
tavern,  and  I'd  like  to  do  a  little  extra  repairing  this 
spring." 

He  was  on  his  way  to  his  rusty  old  safe  while  he 
talked. 

So  I  took  his  money  and  went  away  from  him  with  the 
warmth  of  his  palm  on  mine. 

The  grinding  of  the  wagon-wheels  on  the  grit  in  front 
of  Judge  Kingsley's  house  brought  Celene  to  the  door, 
and  when  I  did  not  climb  down  from  the  wagon  she  called 
to  me. 

"Will  you  not  come  into  the  house?"  she  pleaded.  I 
had  not  intended  to  do  so.  In  spite  of  my  longing  to  see 
her  and  to  have  her  parting  smile  go  along  with  me  on 
that  amazing  journey  I  was  undertaking,  I  had  made  up 
my  mind  to  duck  judiciously  a  meeting-up  with  the 
women  folks  of  my  traveling  partner.  But  I  had  no  will 
to  disobey  when  she  called  to  me.  I  found  the  judge 
with  his  overcoat  on  and  his  bag  in  his  hand.  Evidently 
he  had  thought  the  matter  over !  But  he  did  not  look  like 
a  bridegroom  starting  on  a  honeymoon  trip,  and  he 

1 86 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

scowled  at  me  with  as  much  ferocity  as  if  we  were  two 
tom-cats  tied  by  the  tails  over  a  clothes-line. 

His  wife  was  hanging  to  his  arm  and  she  was  white, 
even  to  her  lips. 

"Mr.  Sidney,  I  must  know  what  this  mysterious  busi- 
ness is." 

"I'm  sure  the  judge  will  tell  you  what  is  necessary." 

"He  will  tell  me  nothing.  I  have  endured  much  in  the 
past,  Zebulon!  I  have  not  asked  to  know  much  about 
your  affairs,"  she  went  on,  trying  to  get  a  square  look  into 
his  eyes.  "This  time  I  must  know!" 

"I  have  told  you!"  From  his  tone  it  was  hard  to  tell 
what  his  emotions  were.  The  words  sounded  as  if  some- 
body were  talking  into  a  tin  spout  a  long  way  off. 

"You  have  told  me  nothing  except  that  you  are  going! 
You  do  not  say  where.  You  have  not  told  me  when 
you  are  coming  back." 

"We  don't  exactly  know,  Mrs.  Kingsley.  But  I  assure 
you  that  the  trip  is  very  necessary,"  I  put  in. 

"I  must  tell  you  that  mother  is  not  well,"  said  Celene, 
wistfully.  "I'm  sure  everything  is  all  right,  but  we 
must  know  where  you  are  going  so  that  we  may  be  in 
touch  with  you." 

"We  can  keep  you  posted — when  we  know  where  we 
are,"  I  said;  but  I  did  not  sound  very  convincing,  I  fear. 
God  knows,  I  wanted  to  put  my  arms  around  her  and 
comfort  her  and  tell  her  that  I  was  madly  trying  to  save 
her,  her  home,  her  mother,  and  her  father  from  disgrace 
and  ruin.  I  guess  no  man  has  ever  figured  out  beyond 
doubt  whether  it's  better  to  tell  the  woman  everything  or 
to  hide  trouble  as  long  as  possible.  When  women  are 
proud  they  never  forget  the  disgrace,  whether  it  is  revealed 
outside  or  if  it's  merely  kept  secret  in  the  household. 
And  in  Zebulon  Kingsley's  case  I  was  proposing  to  keep 
the  effect  of  the  disgrace  as  well  as  all  knowledge  of  it 
away  from  those  women. 

I  knew  how  he  felt  in  the  matter!  He  had  chosen  re- 

187 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

volvers  and  ropes  rather  than  face  them.  I  was  determined 
to  be  just  as  resolute  as  he — until  a  show-down  was  in- 
evitable. 

It  would  be  a  sorry  triumph,  a  half  job,  if  they  were 
obliged  to  live  out  their  lives  knowing  that  the  master 
of  the  household  had  lived  for  years  in  the  shadow  of 
prison;  it  meant  the  wrecking  of  all  their  pride  and  ideals 
— no  more  joy  in  home  or  life  itself  in  the  case  of  such 
women  as  they.  I  understood! 

The  big  clock  was  ticking  off  minutes  rapidly.  Our 
time  was  short.  I  shuffled  my  feet,  impatiently  wishing 
that  Judge  Kingsley  would  hurry  up.  His  woe-begone, 
frozen  face  was  making  the  thing  worse  every  minute  he 
stayed  there. 

"There  is  mystery  here,"  insisted  his  wife.  "There 
should  be  no  mystery  about  business  that's  honest!" 

"You  surely  can  tell  us  something  to  comfort  us  before 
you  go,"  urged  Celene,  coming  close  to  me,  pleading  with 
her  eyes. 

But  I  knew  I  must  stay  away  from  the  edges  of  explana- 
tion in  her  presence;  once  I  got  started,  I'd  be  sure  to 
tumble  into  a  mess.  I  looked  over  her  head. 

"We  must  hurry,  Judge!"  I  warned. 

"I  know  that  my  husband  would  never  go  into  any 
business  that  isn't  honest,"  declared  Mrs.  Kingsley,  be- 
ginning to  show  temper.  She  faced  me  and  her  eyes 
glittered.  "But  he  is  growing  old,  and  his  judgment  may 
not  be  what  it  was.  There  are  always  men  trying  to  lead 
others  into  trouble." 

"That's  so,"  I  admitted. 

"Forgive  mother  if  she  says  anything  harsh!  But 
we  are  in  such  a  state  of  mind!" 

Well,  so  was  I ! 

"I  have  mortgaged  the  home  over  my  head,"  cried 
Mrs.  Kingsley.  "I  have  given  the  money  to  my  husband 
willingly — but  I  will  not  allow  thieves  to  waste  it!" 

It  was  about  time  for  me  to  assert  myself  a  little.  The 

188 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

judge  was  merely  working  his  mouth  like  a  dying  fish, 
and  it  was  plain  that  he  could  be  no  help. 

"I  don't  blame  your  mother,"  I  told  the  girl.  I  took 
her  hands  in  mine,  glad  I  could  carry  away  the  memory 
of  her  touch.  ' '  Some  of  those  men  who  have  been  hanging 
around  the  judge  are  not  good  men,  but  I  was  born  in 
this  town  and  you  know  me !  I'm  helping  your  father  in  an 
important  matter.  I  swear  I'm  telling  the  truth.  And 
I'll  bring  him  back  safe  and  sound." 

I  left  her  before  I  should  be  tempted  to  kiss  her  right 
before  their  eyes,  and  I  took  the  judge's  bag  in  one  hand 
and  boosted  him  along  with  a  clutch  on  his  arm. 

"We  simply  must  catch  that  train!"  I  urged. 

It  was  a  sad  scene  for  a  few  moments.  I  was  obliged 
fairly  to  tussle  with  that  woman  for  the  possession  of 
the  old  man.  But  I  ran  him  out  and  left  the  mother 
sobbing  in  the  daughter's  arms,  and  they  were  in  the 
doorway  when  I  helped  the  judge  into  the  wagon. 

"Brace  up!"  I  whispered.  "Give  'em  just  a  word  or 
two." 

"I'm  all  right,"  he  quavered.  "It's  only  business!  It 
must  be  attended  to.  There's  nothing  to  fret  about!" 

Wasn't,  eh? 

"Lick  up!"  I  told  the  driver.    "Lay  on  the  braid!" 

We  went  rattling  out  of  Levant  behind  a  galloping 
horse  and  I  liked  the  sensation  of  that  haste.  We  were 
chasing  ten  thousand  dollars  and  had  less  than  twenty 
days  for  the  job. 


XVII 

MONEY  HAS   LEGS 

WE  swapped  not  a  word  on  the  way  to  the  railroad. 
The  judge  seemed  to  be  settled  down  into  a  sort 
of  numb  condition,  and  I  was  glad  of  it,  for  I  did  not  feel 
like  talking.  He  stood  indifferently  at  one  side  when  I 
bought  tickets,  and  I  was  glad  of  that  also.  If  I  was  to 
be  purser  and  general  manager  of  that  expedition  I  did 
not  want  to  have  a  joint  debate  every  time  I  made  a  move. 

My  first  tickets  took  us  to  a  junction  point.  Then  I 
bought  to  Chicago. 

The  judge  went  along  silently,  showing  about  as  much 
interest  as  a  mummy  in  me,  or  in  the  scenery  or  people. 
I  suppose  the  old  fellow  was  having  a  terrible  struggle 
with  his  fears,  his  thoughts,  and  his  recollection  of  the 
manner  in  which  he  had  parted  from  his  family.  I  sym- 
pathized with  him  and  left  him  alone.  Once  in  a  while 
I  got  a  side-glance  from  him  which  suggested  that  he  had 
not  abandoned  his  distrust  of  me.  Perhaps  he  pondered 
that  he  was  simply  submitting  to  another  form  of  self- 
destruction  and  was  willing  to  let  it  go  at  that ! 

I'll  confess  this:  I  was  taking  so  much  interest  in  the 
world  about  me  that  I  was  finding  it  hard  to  concentrate 
my  thoughts  on  the  business  we  had  in  hand.  I  had  done 
no  railroad-riding  to  speak  of  till  then.  It  seemed  as  un- 
real as  if  I  were  headed  for  the  moon  instead  of  into 
the  far  vastness  of  my  native  land.  When  we  went  rolling 
through  the  smoky  fringes  of  Chicago  and  I  saw  that  there 
really  was  a  Chicago,  my  emotion,  as  I  remember  it,  was 

190 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

astonishment.  But  I  had  already  found  out  that  a 
greenhorn  could  get  along  pretty  well  by  watching  other 
folks  and  by  asking  questions. 

So  we  crowded  into  the  transfer-wagon  on  Polk  Street 
and  were  quickly  across  the  city  to  another  railroad  station, 
where  I  bought  tickets  for  St.  Paul.  Before  the  train 
pulled  out  I  raided  a  folder-stand  and  grabbed  a  sample 
of  everything  in  the  rack. 

I  went  into  those  folders  like  a  girl  diving  into  the  love 
scenes  in  a  mush  novel;  I  studied  as  diligently  as  if  I 
were  a  prize  pupil  getting  ready  for  a  contest.  I  had  my 
nose  in  those  papers  for  hours,  till  I  could  close  my  eyes 
and  see  maps  and  repeat  time-tables  and  names  of  cities 
backward. 

So  I  wasn't  at  a  loss  when  we  reached  St.  Paul.  I 
trotted  the  judge  right  along  to  a  window  and  bought 
tickets  for  Spokane.  He  was  mumbling  a  monotone  of 
growls  in  my  ear  while  I  counted  out  the  money. 

"Look  here,  young  man,"  he  said,  when  we  had  left 
the  window,  "I  am  not  going  to  be  teamed  any  farther 
until  you  tell  me  exactly  where  you  are  going  and  what 
you  are  intending  to  do." 

It  rather  surprised  me  to  hear  him  speak;  I  had  sort 
of  forgotten  that  he  could  talk. 

"Do  you  pretend  that  you  expect  to  get  money,  racing 
around  like  this?" 

"I'm  on  the  trail  of  it,  Judge  Kingsley — your  money, 
you  remember.  I'm  not  doing  this  for  my  own  amuse- 
ment." 

"You  seem  to  be;  I've  been  watching  you,  sir.  You 
are  plainly  relishing  this  junketing  about.  I  go  no 
farther." 

" How  much  money  have  you  in  your  pocket?"  I  asked, 
mildly. 

He  looked  alarmed.  "I  did  not  bring  money!  You  took 
the  money  for  expenses,  you  said.  I  depended  on  that. 
I  have  only  a  few  dollars." 

191 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"That's  good,"  I  told  him.  "So  there's  no  chance  for 
argument  here  on  this  platform."  I  waved  the  tickets 
under  his  nose.  "  I  reckon  you'll  have  to  stick  right  along 
with  me,  sir,  wherever  I  go." 

That  settled  that  rebellion! 

When  I  started  toward  the  train  he  followed.  His  face 
was  white,  his  jaws  were  ridged,  and  he  was  furious — but 
his  anger  locked  his  lips.  He  did  not  bother  me  with 
questions.  That  night  I  hid  my  money  inside  my  berth- 
pillow;  by  the  way  the  judge  looked  at  me  I  knew  he 
would  pick  my  pocket  if  he  got  a  chance. 

On  we  went  across  the  prairies  of  the  Dakotas — and  the 
journey  was  not  interesting.  It  was  all  dun  and  dull  and 
brown  and  monotonous  in  that  late  March.  When  the 
sun  shone  it  only  showed  up  more  of  the  raw  country. 
Every  little  while  we  went  plunging  through  a  snow-squall 
which  plastered  the  car  windows  and  speckled  the  brown 
of  the  prairie. 

Then  the  doldrums  got  me!  All  at  once  I  found  myself 
bluer  than  the  old  judge  had  been,  even  in  his  deepest 
despondency.  This  was  a  reckless  escapade,  not  a  sensible 
man's  project!  I  had  bragged  and  blustered  and  made 
promises  there  in  that  little  tin  dipper  of  a  Levant  where 
the  horizon  was  pinched  in  by  Mitchell's  Mountain  and 
Tumbledick  Hill.  I  had  got  by  with  my  bluff  in  the 
wood-lot  game  and  had  felt  as  if  I  were  a  big  man! 

But  out  there! 

No  longer  was  it  a  string  of  mere  names  and  a  smudge 
of  color  on  paper  to  make  a  map!  I  was  looking  out, 
hour  by  hour,  on  the  reality  of  the  vastness  of  the  great 
West.  As  to  the  men  I  was  hunting  for  in  that  wide 
expanse — those  fly-by-nighters,  those  human  skip-bugs — 
would  they  not  be  dodging  where  impulse  took  them? 
Jeff  Dawlin  was  a  mere  gambler — willing  to  take  a  chance 
on  anything.  Had  he  not  taken  a  mere  gambler's  chance 
on  my  finding  those  men?  If  I  succeeded  he  would  get 
his  pay.  If  I  did  not  succeed  it  was  only  my  failure — he 

192 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

had  invested  nothing — he  had  no  interest  in  my  affairs, 
except  a  gambler's. 

And  what  could  I  do  to  those  men  if  I  did  find  them? 
They  were  at  home  out  there — as  much  at  home  as  they 
were  in  the  East.  The  farther  out  on  those  prairies  I 
rolled,  the  farther  away  from  all  confidence  in  myself  I 
seemed  to  be.  Old  Ariock  Blake  used  to  say  that  some- 
times he  felt  as  if  he  were  "forty  miles  from  water  and  a 
hundred  miles  from  land."  I  felt  just  as  helplessly  up 
in  the  air  as  that !  I  fairly  wallowed  in  sloppy  gloom. 

To  sit  there  in  front  of  Zebulon  Kingsley  in  my  state 
of  mind  and  courage  and  look  on  his  gad-awful  sourness 
of  visage  was  too  much  for  my  nerves. 

I  went  to  get  a  drink  of  water  and  heard  men  laughing 
in  the  smoking-room.  If  there  were  men  in  the  world  who 
could  laugh  I  wanted  to  be  with  them.  So  I  went  in. 
They  were  playing  poker,  and  after  a  time  one  man  had 
to  leave  the  train  and  they  asked  me  into  the  game. 

I  was  desperate  enough  to  grab  at  anything  that  would 
take  my  mind  off  my  troubles,  so  I  began  to  play  poker. 
And  when  a  man  sits  in  to  play  poker  with  strangers  it's 
a  mighty  small  slice  of  mind  he  has  left  to  butter  worry 
with. 

I  was  away  from  the  judge  a  long  time,  and  he  came 
hunting  me  up  and  caught  me  at  the  pastime.  Perhaps 
he  feared  that  his  two-legged  bank  had  fallen  off  the 
train  and  he  had  been  worrying;  but  when  he  saw  me 
with  cards  in  my  hand  and  money  spread  out  he  had  a 
lot  more  to  worry  about  and  his  face  showed  it.  He  let 
out  of  him  a  sort  of  moan  and  went  away. 

' '  Your  father  ? ' '  asked  one  of  the  men,  casually.    ' '  Sick  ? ' ' 

"Yes,"  I  said.  "I  mean  he's  sick,  but  he's  not  my 
father.  He  is  a  big  Eastern  capitalist  I'm  escorting  West 
on  business." 

"Pat  me  next — I  can  offer  him  some  great  chances," 
said  another  man. 

"I'm  afraid  he  is  feeling  too  bad  to  talk  business — 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

and  he  is  very  notional  in  the  matter  of  strangers.  Don't 
say  anything  to  him;  leave  it  to  me."  I  was  obliged  to 
say  something  about  the  judge  and  to  block  them  from 
bothering  him,  if  I  could,  for  I  knew  he  would  not  be 
contented  with  one  inspection  of  me  at  my  devilish  and 
dangerous  occupation.  "Don't  pay  any  attention  to  his 
actions,"  I  advised.  "He's  feeling  mighty  sick — a  long 
ride  makes  him  sort  of  seasick." 

I  was  glad  I  had  planted  something  with  the  men,  for 
the  judge  kept  coming  and  sticking  his  head  between  the 
curtains  and  making  strange  noises.  He  went  at  me  in 
good  earnest  when  he  had  me  at  table  in  the  dining-car. 

"How  dare  you  throw  away  my  money  on  gamblers?" 

"I  haven't  done  so,  Judge  Kingsley." 

"  I  saw  you  doing  it  in  that  dirty  den  of  smoke  and  vice." 

"You  saw  me  playing  cards,  I'll  admit.  I  had  to  do 
something  to  keep  from  going  crazy." 

4 '  Tossing  away  my  money !    Gambling  my  dollars — ' ' 

' '  Just  a  moment,  sir !  That  money  is  a  part  of  my  profits 
and  I  consider  it  a  common  pot  for  both  of  us.  I  know 
how  to  play  poker.  I  have  added  forty-five  dollars  to  it." 

"Do  you  boast  that  you  have  been  cheating  at  cards  to 
help  me?" 

Confound  him!  he  could  sting  a  man  with  that  tongue 
of  his! 

"A  man  can  play  poker  without  cheating.  Just  as  a 
man  can  do  business  without  cheating!" 

I  looked  him  in  the  eye  and  he  shut  up.  I  had  found 
out  that  I  could  get  along  with  him  better  when  he  didn't 
talk.  After  the  meal  I  went  back  to  the  game.  I  felt  that 
every  little  helped,  provided  I  could  hold  my  own. 

I  couldn't  resist  a  quiet  chuckle  inside  when  I  reflected 
that  I  was  industriously  playing  cards  for  the  benefit  of 
Judge  Zebulon  Kingsley,  Sunday-school  superintendent 
of  Levant. 

I  had  learned  long  before  how  to  watch  out  in  a  card 
game,  and  when  I  felt  little  scratches  on  the  backs  of  the 

194 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

cards  and  observed  that  one  of  the  players  was  doing  the 
gouge  act  with  a  specially  manicured  finger-nail,  I  turned 
a  few  tricks  of  my  own.  I  felt  the  full  humor  of  the  thing 
when  I  calmed  my  conscience  with  the  thought  that  it 
was  all  for  the  sake  of  the  judge.  When  he  came  to  the 
curtains  and  glared  at  me  I  grinned  at  him. 

I  cleaned  up  one  hundred  and  fifteen  dollars,  at  any  rate, 
before  we  rolled  into  Spokane — and  I  had  at  least  five 
hundred  dollars'  worth  of  respite  from  my  bitter  mis- 
givings. When  I  showed  that  tainted  money  to  the  judge 
with  some  little  pride  and  impelled  by  a  spirit  of  devilish- 
ness  I  couldn't  control,  I  thought  for  a  moment  that  he 
would  bite  me. 

"I'm  not  going  to  associate  any  longer  with  a 
scalawag.  I'm  not  going  to  be  bullyragged  by  a 
scoundrel!" 

"However,  when  we're  roaming  we've  got  to  do  as  the 
roamers  do,"  I  told  him.  Deep  in  me  I  was  ashamed  of 
the  disrespect  I  was  showing  him  by  plaguing  him  in  that 
fashion,  but  I  felt  an  almost  irresistible  hankering  to 
do  it;  he  had  so  long  lorded  it  in  Levant.  Furthermore, 
he  did  not  seem  to  recognize  in  any  manner  my  spirit  of 
self-sacrifice;  he  had  not  shown  to  me  one  flash  of  whole- 
hearted gratitude.  I  may  have  had  a  cloudy  notion  that 
he  needed  to  have  his  spirit  of  Kingsley  pride  humbled 
before  he  would  ever  consider  me  as  a  likely  son-in-law. 
My  ideas  then  and  the  memories  of  my  ideas  now  are  not 
very  clear,  for  I  was  not  in  any  very  calm  and  philosophic 
mood  those  days. 

After  a  carriage  had  snatched  us  across  Spokane  and 
we  were  landed  on  the  platform  of  a  station  from  which 
trains  for  the  Idaho  country  departed,  he  did  buck  in 
good  earnest. 

He  was  a  man  of  plan  and  method;  he  had  passed  his 
life  in  routine.  That  rattle-brained  gallop  must  have 
offended  every  instinct  in  him. 

"I'll  not  get  on  that  train.  I'll  go  no  farther.  I'll 

195 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

appeal  to  the  police,"  he  raved.  "Give  me  my  share  of 
that  money  and  I'll  go  home." 

"I  have  mixed  it  all  together — gambling  money  and 
all !  I  would  not  have  you  traveling  on  gambling  money, 
Judge."  My  pertness  added  to  his  anger. 

"I'll  have  you  arrested,  so  help  me — " 

"Hold  on  before  you  put  the  binding  word  to  that 
oath,  Judge  Kingsley.  If  you  dare  to  put  me  in  the  jug 
away  out  here  away  from  home,  I'll  yank  you  in  as  an 
embezzler  of  town  money — and  I've  got  an  uncle  who  is 
first  selectman  of  the  town!  A  little  telegraphing  will  do 
the  trick.  Now  let's  both  of  us  throw  away  our  bombs. 
The  fuses  are  sizzling!  Climb  aboard." 

He  ground  his  teeth  and  climbed ! 

A  fine  sort  of  a  brindled,  cross-eyed  hen  was  I  setting 
to  hatch  my  son-in-law  hopes !  But  a  mood  of  recklessness 
was  sweeping  me  then. 

I  did  not  buy  tickets ;  I  paid  cash  fares  to  the  conductor, 
naming  a  station  I  culled  from  the  folder.  I  was  not  sure 
what  the  limits  of  the  Potlatch  country  were;  I  proposed 
to  drop  in  with  somebody  on  the  train,  if  I  could  manage 
it  discreetly,  and  post  myself  by  asking  questions. 

I  saw  no  likely  subjects  in  the  car  where  we  were  riding — 
the  passengers  were  mostly  women — so  I  slicked  up  my 
silk  hat,  fixed  it  at  a  confident  and  compelling  angle,  and 
went  out  into  the  smoking-car. 

As  I  have  just  said,  the  spirit  of  recklessness  was  flaming 
in  me.  I  did  not  dare  to  let  it  die  down.  I  lashed  my 
courage  and  my  craziness  both  together.  I  was  bitterly 
afraid  I  might  drop  back  into  that  paralyzing  despondency 
I  had  felt  back  there  on  the  Dakota  prairies.  That  meant 
that  I  would  become  a  useless  quitter.  Only  by  dint  of 
holding  myself  in  that  desperate  mood  where  I  proposed 
to  let  chance  have  its  way  with  me,  and  to  grab  in  on  any- 
thing that  offered,  would  I  have  gone  through  so  brazenly 
with  the  affair  on  which  I  soon  found  myself  entering. 
It  was  merely  another  gamble,  it  seemed  to  me  after  I  was 

196 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

in  it.  It  was  taking  my  mind  off  my  more  private  affairs, 
even  as  the  poker  game  had  distracted  my  attention. 

I  marched  through  to  the  front  of  the  smoking-car 
where  the  train-boy  was  arranging  his  little  stock,  bought 
a  paper,  and  walked  slowly  back  up  the  aisle  with  a  glance 
to  right  and  left  at  the  faces  of  the  men,  hoping  to  get  a 
rise  from  that  "likely  subject"  I  was  hunting  for. 

One  man  returned  my  glance  with  interest. 

After  I  sat  down,  well  up  in  the  car,  I  looked  over  the 
top  of  the  newspaper  and  saw  that  the  stranger's  interest 
in  me  continued.  The  chap  had  a  broad  face,  liquor- 
mottled.  After  a  while  he  unscrewed  the  top  of  a  flask 
and  sucked  in  a  long  drink.  Then  he  worked  his  shoulders, 
jerked  at  the  bottom  of  his  waistcoat,  wriggled  his  arms, 
and  displayed  other  symptoms  of  a  man  who  is  trying  to 
brace  up  and  to  pull  himself  together.  At  last  he  derricked 
himself  out  of  his  seat  and  swayed  up  the  car  aisle.  He 
divided  glances  between  my  plug-hat  and  the  frock-coat. 

"Excuse  me,  but  it's  the  clothes,"  said  the  stranger. 

I  nodded  amiably. 

"  I  wouldn't  butt  in  and  speak  to  you  if  it  wasn't  for  the 
clothes." 

Once  more  I  was  having  it  impressed  on  me  that  a  plug- 
hat  and  a  frock-coat  seemed  to  be  good  reliable  openers 
in  the  jack-pot  of  chance.  I  reckoned  I'd  play  the  hand. 

"You're  not  a  parson." 

"I'm  far  from  it,  sir." 

"The  farthest  from  it  I  know  is  to  be  a  lawyer.  I 
spotted  you  for  a  lawyer.  If  you  are  one  I  want  to  talk 
with  you." 

"I'm  a  lawyer.    Sit  down,"  was  my  cheerful  lie. 

The  stranger  hauled  out  his  flask.  "Do  you  ever 
indulge?" 

"No." 

"So  much  the  better.  Lawyers  ought  to  keep  their 
brains  cool.  Seeing  that  you've  got  the  brains  and  propose 
to  keep  'em  cool,  I've  got  to  keep  up  my  nerve — and  so 

197 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I'll  take  a  drink."  He  sucked  at  the  flask  again.  "Where 
do  you  live?" 

"In  the  East." 

*'Then  you  don't  know  this  country  and  the  laws  out 
in  this  section,"  said  the  stranger,  showing  his  disappoint- 
ment. 

"Oh  yes,  I  do;  I  used  to  live  out  here.  That's  why  I 
happen  to  be  here  now.  I'm  investigating  investments 
for  Eastern  capital." 

My  new  acquaintance  leaned  close,  so  close  that  his 
whisky-saturated  breath  left  vapor  on  my  cheeks. 

"I  have  found  out  something  that's  big.  I  thought  I 
could  handle  it  myself.  I  have  started  out  to  handle  it 
myself.  But  when  I  saw  you  I  said  to  myself,  '  There's  a 
squire,  and  he  knows  law  and  probably  his  brains  are 
cooler  than  mine.'  I've  got  the  secret  and  I've  got  the 
grit,  but  I  need  law,  too — and  I  ain't  sure  of  all  the  fine 
points.  I  want  you  to  come  along  with  me  and  stand 
at  my  back  and  hand  me  the  fine  points  as  I  need  'em. 
What  do  you  charge  per  day  for  peddling  law?" 

"I'll  have  to  know  what  the  deal  is  first." 

"Can't  tell  you." 

I  was  getting  a  little  shaky  on  the  proposition  and 
raised  the  paper  in  front  of  my  face  and  appeared  to  lose 
interest  in  matters  of  law.  After  a  time  the  red-faced 
individual  tapped  on  the  paper  with  his  knuckle,  as  one 
would  tap  on  a  door.  I  pulled  my  shield  to  one  side. 

"A  chap  hates  to  let  go  of  a  big  thing  to  a  stranger, 
even  if  that  stranger  is  a  lawyer.  I  have  walked  past  a 
dozen  law-offices  without  daring  to  go  in.  Perhaps  you 
don't  realize  what  a  big  thing  I've  got.  Now  listen  here! 
Suppose  you  were  a  fellow  like  I  am — a  prospector — and 
was  digging  around  the  record-books,  looking  up  land 
titles,  mineral  grants,  and  so  forth,  and  got  on  to  a  trail 
that  you  followed  up  and  found  that  a  new  city  had  been 
laid  out  and  lots  sold  off  and  buildings  going  up,  and  all 
that — all  on  a  location  that  wasn't  legal?  Mind  you,  I 

198 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

ain't  naming  any  place.  But  it's  on  a  section  that  land- 
grabbers  got  hold  of  a  long  time  ago.  And  they  were  such 
hungry  land-grabbers  that  they  stretched  lines  to  take  in 
everything  that  was  loose  around  those  parts.  There  was 
no  one  to  make  any  holler  about  it.  It  was  just  so  much 
extra  land  and  it  didn't  look  like  real  money." 

"  I  have  so  much  business  of  my  own  that  I'm  not  in- 
terested in  making  guesses  at  the  business  of  somebody 
else,"  I  remarked.  I  was  in  that  thing  about  as  deep  as 
I  wanted  to  be. 

"But  how  do  I  know  anything  about  you?" 

"Honors  are  even!" 

The  stranger  knuckled  his  forehead,  trying  to  think. 

"I  don't  want  to  trig  the  best  thing  I  ever  got  hold  of 
in  my  life  because  I  didn't  buy  a  little  law  for  to  grease 
the  runway,"  he  said  at  last.  "I  may  as  well  tell  you — 
without  giving  out  names  and  places — that  those  land- 
grabbers  hooked  in  a  section  that  belonged  to  a  soldiers' 
grant — and  that's  why  no  one  ever  made  a  holler.  There 
don't  seem  to  be  any  particular  heirs  to  side-tracked 
soldiers'  grants  that  have  never  been  thought  worth  much. 
No  timber,  you  see;  only  plain  land.  But  plain  land  is 
mighty  good  property  when  a  railroad  takes  a  notion  to 
build  on  to  it  and  comes  to  an  end  there  and  a  city  starts." 
The  client  began  to  show  excitement.  "They  have  laid 
out  lots  and  built  and  they  haven't  got  straight  title.  1 
have  found  it  out." 

"That  doesn't  seem  reasonable,"  I  said.  "Railroads 
and  men  who  are  building  cities  do  not  make  such  mis- 
takes." 

"But  they  have  this  time.  The  same  money  that 
grabbed  the  land  has  built  the  railroad.  They  think  they 
have  got  it  all  buttoned  up.  They  didn't  want  to  expose 
themselves  by  starting  a  movement  to  make  their  title 
straight.  They  reckon  they'll  be  able  to  bluff  it  out  with 
money  and  pull  and  influence  down  to  Boise.  That  will 
be  easier  than  to  chase  around  and  establish  title  to  a 

14  199 


soldiers'  grant.  But,  by  thunder!  they  can't  stretch  or 
shrink  the  hide  of  old  earth !  There  are  set  points  that  have 
got  to  be  measured  from  and  the  measurements  will  tell 
the  story.  And  re-locations  will  have  to  stand — for  the 
law  of  the  United  States  can't  be  built  over  when  the 
holler  is  made." 

I  guess  I  didn't  show  much  interest — I  was  afraid  to 
show  any.  I  hoped  the  man  would  shut  up  and  go  away. 

"Don't  you  believe  what  I  am  telling  you?"  he  de- 
manded. 

"I  am  merely  wondering  how  it  comes  about  that  you 
know  so  much  more  than  everybody  else  about  a  section 
of  land  that  has  been  surveyed  for  a  railroad  and  a  new 
city." 

"My  father  was  a  pioneer  in  this  country.  One  day, 
after  they  began  to  build  the  railroad,  I  was  in  the  record- 
office  and  happened  to  remember  some  of  the  things  he 
told  me  about  the  days  when  they  were  grabbing  land  in 
these  parts.  I  looked  up  records,  I  did  measuring,  I  did 
some  reckoning,  and  within  the  last  two  days  I  have  made 
sure  that  I've  got  the  bind  on  the  city  of  Breed." 

In  his  excitement  he  spat  out  the  name.  Then  he 
promptly  began  to  damn  himself.  "I  never  ought  to 
take  a  drink  of  liquor,"  he  declared.  "But  when  it  came 
to  me  that  I  could  run  in  there  and  re-locate  the  best 
hunk  of  that  land,  I  reckoned  I  needed  to  have  my  nerve 
with  me,  and  so  I've  been  bracing  my  nerve.  But  the 
trouble  with  me  is,  when  my  nerve  is  braced  my  tongue 
is  loose.  Now  I  suppose  I've  got  to  take  you  in !  But  I'm 
dangerous.  However,  I'll  take  you  in." 

I  didn't  say  anything. 

"What  do  you  get  a  day  for  your  best  law  work?" 

"I  don't  work  by  the  day."  I  wondered  just  how  law- 
yers did  work. 

"Well,  then,  name  your  price  for  standing  by  me  against 
the  sharks  they'll  bring  to  try  to  beat  me  out.  I  don't 
know  anything  about  hiring  lawyers." 

200 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"I'll  take  half."  I  thought  that  remark  would  send 
him  hipering  away. 

My  client's  face  promptly  showed  the  color  of  a  ripe 
damson.  He  tried  to  say  something  and  merely  clucked. 
After  a  struggle  he  managed  to  control  his  temper  and 
his  voice.  He  leaned  forward  and  clutched  my  knees.  He 
spoke  low,  for  there  were  other  passengers  near,  but  the 
rasp  in  his  tones  made  up  for  any  lack  of  emphasis. 

"My  name  is  Peter  Dragg.  If  you  have  never  heard 
of  me,  ask  somebody  about  me.  Ask  any  one  between 
Buffalo  Hump  and  Cceur  d'Alene.  I've  had  a  lot  of 
practice  in  doing  things  to  men  who  have  got  in  my  way. 
What  I'll  do  to  you  if  you  don't  back  up  will  put  red  rings 
around  the  moon." 

"Well,  then,  consider  I'm  discharged!" 

"From  what?" 

"From  my  position  as  your  lawyer." 

"I  haven't  hired  you." 

"Then  suppose  you  cast  off  those  grappling-hooks,"  I 
suggested,  for  his  clutch  on  my  knees  hurt  my  flesh  and 
my  feelings.  When  he  did  not  let  go,  I  reached  down 
slowly,  grabbed  his  hands  and  began  to  pry. 

Not  a  man  about  us  noticed  what  was  going  on — the 
newspaper  that  I  had  dropped  covered  our  hands.  It 
was  tense  and  silent  testing  out  which  was  the  better 
man  in  that  clinch.  He  had  a  handsome  little  grip  of  his 
own,  I'll  admit,  but  I  had  diver's  hooks  at  the  ends  of 
my  arms  and  I  bested  him. 

"I  quit!"  he  growled,  after  a  time.    "Leave  go!'* 

"Listen,"  said  I.    "I'm  not  a  lawyer." 

"You  lie!" 

"I  did  lie,  but  not  now.  You  pass  on  about  your 
business." 

"It  isn't  my  own  business  any  longer — I  have  put  you 
wise  to  it." 

"But  I'm  forgetting  it.  I  have  plenty  else  on  my 
mind." 

201 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"You  don't  get  past  with  that  kind  of  bluff,"  he  sneered. 
"You  intend  to  beat  me  to  it,  but  you  can't." 

"Look  here,  I'm  coming  across  square  with  you,"  I 
protested.  "You  came  and  jammed  a  lot  of  information 
on  to  me.  I  didn't  ask  for  it." 

*'I  say  you  coaxed  it  out  of  me.  Now  you've  got  to 
come  in  and  give  me  law  on  a  decent  lay.  If  you  don't 
I'll  do  you!" 

"I'm  not  a  lawyer.1' 

"I  know  better!  You're  tied  up  with  me — you've  got 
to  stick  to  me." 

"But  I  have  important  matters  which  will  take  all  my 
time." 

"I'll  take  your  time  from  now  on." 

"Look  here!  I  propose  to  go  on  and  mind  my  own 
business!" 

"Then  you're  spoken  for!  I'll  tend  to  you  before 
you  get  a  chance  to  butt  in  on  my  business." 

He  leaned  back  in  his  seat  and  pushed  his  coat  aside, 
inviting  my  attention  by  a  downward  glance. 

He  was  packing  a  gun  on  each  hip. 

"I'll  give  you  about  ten  minutes'  recess  to  think  the 
thing  over,"  he  stated.  "If  you  try  to  leave  this  train 
I'll  be  after  you!" 

He  went  down  the  car,  turned  over  a  seat,  and  faced  me. 

I  was  in  a  fine  way  to  attend  to  the  business  of  Judge 
Kingsley  and  myself!  Whether  I  went  into  that  fellow's 
scheme  or  did  not  go  in,  it  seemed  all  the  same.  In  those 
days,  according  to  what  I  had  read,  they  were  very  care- 
less about  handling  firearms  in  some  parts  of  the  West, 
and  it  looked  to  me  as  if  I  had  dropped  into  one  of  those 
sections.  He  took  another  pull  from  his  flask.  The  un- 
certainty of  what  that  intoxicated  gentleman  might  feel 
impelled  to  do  to  me  next,  in  the  confusion  of  his  fuddle- 
ment,  made  the  shivers  run  up  and  down  my  back.  In 
the  ten  anxious  minutes  that  passed  he  pulled  that  flask 
four  times,  and  every  time  he  reached  for  it  I  made  a 

202 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

motion  to  dodge  under  the  seat.  The  damnable  part  of 
it  was  that  nobody  in  the  car  was  paying  the  least  attention 
to  us. 

Then  he  came  tottering  up  the  aisle  and  lurched  into 
the  seat  in  front  of  me.  Between  two  hiccups  he  sand- 
wiched a  threatening,  "Well?"  Plainly,  he  was  well 
"pickled"  and  accordingly  dangerous.  And,  on  the 
other  hand,  there  was  a  hope  for  me  in  his  condition. 
I  concluded  I  might  as  well  be  shot  as  scared  to  death. 
I  couldn't  draw  a  deep  breath  as  long  as  those  guns  were 
on  him. 

"Well,  what  say?"  he  repeated. 

"It's  all  right!"  I  mumbled.  "But  let's  make  it  pri- 
vate. Listen!  I'll  whisper!"  I  leaned  forward,  sliding 
both  hands  along  his  legs,  getting  close  to  his  ear.  I  laid 
hands  on  both  weapons  and  jerked  myself  back,  holding 
them  low  at  my  hips. 

"Make  one  move  and  I'll  bore  you,"  I  growled.  "Go 
back  to  your  seat.  Go  quick!" 

He  went.    I  tucked  the  guns  into  my  own  pockets. 

We  passed  the  station  to  which  I  had  paid  fares,  and  I 
handed  more  money  to  the  conductor.  I  decided  to  stay 
on  the  train,  hoping  that  my  client  would  arrive  at  his 
home  town,  whatever  it  was,  and  get  off.  But  he  kept 
right  on. 

After  a  time  he  held  up  a  handkerchief  by  one  corner 
and  waggled  it,  giving  me  a  drunken  and  moist  wink. 
Evidently  he  wanted  further  conference  under  a  flag  of 
truce,  and  I  nodded  agreement  after  I  had  made  sure  that 
the  guns  could  be  come  at  easily.  I  agreed  because  I 
hoped  I  could  make  some  sensible  arrangement  to  get 
rid  of  this  particular  bottle  imp  who  had  landed  himself 
on  to  my  affairs. 

"You  think  you're  a  slick  one,  eh?"  My  hopes  fell,  for 
his  tone  did  not  suggest  compromise.  "You'd  better 
turn  around  and  go  back.  You're  heading  into  the  wrong 
country.  Will  you  go  back?" 

203 


WHERE   YOUR  TREASURE   IS 

"What  is  the  country?" 

"Thought  you  said  you  used  to  live  out  this  way!" 

"I  say,  what  is  the  country  you're  speaking  of?" 

"The  Potlatch  section,"  he  growled.  "You'd  better 
not  get  as  far  as  that.  You  know  Shan  Benson,  don't 
you?" 

"Maybe!" 

"You  know  Ive  Hacker,  Binn  Mingo,  Cole  Wass — all 
friends  of  mine!" 

"What  about  it?" 

"Pals,  I  say!  All  work  together.  Pull  off  our  plays 
together." 

"Go  ahead!" 

"Go  ahead!"  he  repeated,  grinding  his  teeth.  "We'll 
go  ahead  and  make  a  pot  roast  of  you  in  that  plug-hat! 
Do  you  think  I'm  a  lone-hander,  without  friends ?  Haven't 
you  ever  heard  of  Steer  Bingham?" 

My  heart  jumped.  That  was  *ne  of  the  names  Jeff 
Dawlin  had  written  down  for  me. 

"And  I  suppose  you're  holding  out  Ike  Dawlin  for  a — " 
I  started,  giving  him  a  sharp  look. 

He  smacked  his  hand  on  his  knee.  "Yes,  Ike  Dawlin. 
That's  the  kind  of  friends  I've  got  who  will — " 

"A  fine  bunch  to  be  afraid  of  if  they  all  are  as  handy 
by  as  Ike  Dawlin!" 

He  stared  at  me. 

"  Ike  Dawlin  is  East  on  a  gold-brick  game,  and  you  know 
it,"  I  said. 

' '  East — East — you  plug-hat  stiff !  I  '11  show  you  whether 
he's  East  or  not!" 

"He  is  East  along  with  'Peacock'  Pratt." 

My  cocksureness  made  him  furious. 

"By  the  jumped-up  jeesicks,  don't  you  suppose  I  know 
when  Ike  Dawlin  lands  back  in  the  Potlatch  country?" 

"I'll  have  to  see  him  to  believe  it.  Yes,  or  'Peacock' 
Pratt!" 

"You  follow  along  on  my  heels  and  you'll  see  both  of 

204 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

'em  all  right!    Next  you'll  claim  to  be  a  friend  of  theirs, 
eh?" 

"Oh  no!  If  I  really  thought  Ike  Dawlin  was  in  the 
Potlatch  instead  of  back  East  I  wouldn't  be  headed  this 
way.  There's  one  special  man  I  wouldn't  want  to  meet 
up  with." 

Mr.  Dragg  bounced  up  and  down  on  the  seat  in  his  rage. 
I  had  prodded  him  as  hard  as  I  could  in  order  to  make 
sure  that  he  knew  what  he  was  talking  about. 

"Damn  you!"  he  snorted.  "Then  you'll  get  your  dose 
of  Ike  Dawlin.  I  won't  eat  nor  sleep  till  I  find  him.  And 
he'll  burn  up  the  road  getting  to  you.  Ike  Dawlin,  eh? 
You  don't  dare  to  come  on!" 

"Keep  your  eye  on  me.  But  if  you  can  dig  up  Ike 
Dawlin  in  these  parts  come  around  and  I'll  hand  you  a 
present — maybe  I'll  hand  back  your  guns!" 

Mr.  Dragg  by  that  time  was  not  a  pleasant  companion 
and  I  got  up  and  went  back  through  the  train.  He 
started  after  me,  and  then  thought  better  of  it.  Probably 
he  reflected  that  he  had  me  either  way.  If  I  got  frightened 
and  went  back  he  would  be  well  rid  of  me  as  a  rival  in 
his  scheme;  if  I  came  on  he  had  Dawlin  and  the  rest — 
and  I  surely  believed  his  word  about  Dawlin's  whereabouts. 
I  did  not  know  whether  I  was  mighty  glad  that  my  chase 
was  being  guided  in  such  handsome  manner  or  was  so 
dreadfully  scared  by  the  prospects  just  ahead  of  me  that  I 
was  half  minded  to  jump  off  the  train;  my  feelings  were 
very  much  mixed  up. 

However,  when  I  met  the  gloomy  stare  of  Zebulon 
Kingsley  I  grinned — I  couldn't  help  it.  There  was  a  lot 
of  grim  humor  in  the  situation. 

"Been  raking  in  more  dirty  money,  I  suppose,"  he 
snarled,  mistaking  the  nature  of  my  smile. 

"  No,  I  have  turned  a  better  trick,  sir.  I  have  just  met 
up  with  the  most  obliging  chap  I  have  found  in  a  long  time. 
He  knows  the  man  who  fooled  you  into  buying  that  gold 
brick.  He  is  going  to  find  him  for  us!" 

205 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"Bah!"  sneered  the  judge.  "This  is  only  a  wild,  crazy, 
helter-skelter  chase  for — " 

"I'm  telling  you  the  truth,  sir!  I  never  saw  a  man  so 
enthusiastic  about  a  kindness  for  strangers!  He  just 
told  me  that  he  wouldn't  eat  or  sleep  till  he  had  found 
that  fellow.  Why,  he  is  so  headlong  about  the  thing 
that  I'm  afraid  he'll  find  the  chap  before  we're  ready  to 
meet  him  in  proper  style!" 

"Hump!"  sneered  the  judge,  not  taking  a  mite  of  stock 
in  me. 

I  walked  away  and  sat  down  by  myself.  There  was  sad 
truth  in  what  I  just  told  Kingsley.  I  was  not  ready  to 
meet  Ike  Dawlin  and  "Peacock"  Pratt. 


XVIII 

THE   ECCENTRICITIES  OF   ROYAL  CITY 

I'LL  confess  that  it  took  me  a  little  while  to  screw  up 
my  resolution  to  the  point  where  I  could  tell  myself 
that  I  was  entirely  ready  and  willing  to  meet  Ike  Dawlin 
in  the  circle  of  his  associates. 

We  had  left  behind  us  brown  fields  where  wheat  grew, 
and  had  passed  through  the  Idaho  prune-orchards — a 
brakeman  told  me  they  were  prune-orchards.  We  had 
come  into  the  hill  country  and  the  railroad  wriggled  its 
way  along  the  foot  of  the  canon. 

I  took  it  for  granted  that  Mr.  Dragg  proposed  to  stay 
with  me.  Every  little  while  he  came  and  set  his  nose 
against  the  glass  of  the  car's  forward  door  and  glared  at 
me.  When  we  stopped  at  a  station  I  stuck  my  head  out  of 
the  window  and  made  sure  that  he  did  not  leave  the 
train.  The  two  of  us  were  playing  a  sort  of  "  even  Stephen  " 
game — silent  peek-a-boo.  I  kept  carefully  away  from 
Judge  Kingsley,  for  I  did  not  care  to  have  Dragg 
report  that  I  was  in  the  company  of  an  elderly  man  with 
a  roll  of  chin- whiskers;  Mr.  Dawlin  might  recognize  the 
description  and  take  alarm. 

The  judge  sat  close  to  the  window,  wrapped  in  his 
cloak,  and  scowled  up  at  the  canon's  walls  closing  in 
behind  as  the  railroad  wound  along.  He  looked  as  if  he 
felt  like  a  man  headed  for  the  innermost  chambers  of 
tophet,  with  the  doors  slamming  behind  him.  As  the 
hills  shut  in  to  the  north,  my  feelings  were  of  that  sort, 
anyway! 

207 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

And  so  night  came! 

I  had  been  asking  a  lot  of  questions  of  that  obliging 
brakeman.  My  folder  named  a  terminus  of  the  road 
and  I  had  paid  to  that  point,  but  I  learned  that  the  rail- 
road had  been  stretched  along  six  or  eight  miles  farther 
down  the  canon  so  as  to  serve  a  mushroom  town  which 
was  the  depot  for  a  freshly  discovered  mining  section. 

When  the  train  stopped  at  the  old  terminus,  both  Mr. 
Dragg  and  I  found  ourselves  very  curious  in  regard  to 
each  other;  had  it  not  been  for  the  glass  in  the  car  door  we 
would  have  bumped  noses  when  we  hurried  to  make 
mutual  inspection.  But  he  stayed  on  the  train — and  so 
did  I. 

It  was  a  young,  a  very  young  railroad,  that  last  bit. 
The  train  crawled  like  a  caterpillar — and  that's  a  good 
description,  for  the  cars  went  bumping  up  slowly  over 
the  bulges  in  the  track.  Every  now  and  then  we  got  a 
side-slat  which  made  me  think  we  were  going  into  the 
creek. 

I  was  too  busy  worrying  about  that  train  to  give  much 
thought  to  what  was  going  to  happen  to  me  when  I  landed 
in  "Royal  City"  along  with  Mr.  Dragg.  Such,  I  was 
informed,  was  the  name  of  the  new  town.  They  certainly 
do  pick  good  names  to  build  up  to  in  the  West,  just  as 
Seth  Dorsey,  of  Carmel,  built  a  house  on  to  the  brass  door- 
knob he  found  in  the  road. 

Judge  Kingsley  was  not  affording  me  much  encourage- 
ment; he  sat  and  hung  on  to  the  arm  of  his  seat  and 
glared  unutterable  reproach  at  me. 

I  was  considerably  glad  to  get  off  that  train. 

But  as  to  Royal  City!  The  place  tickled  me  about  as 
much  as  if  it  were  a  cemetery  and  I  were  riding  in  the 
hearse.  It  wasn't  even  as  ripe  as  that  railroad. 

My  first  performance  was  to  step  into  a  mud-hole 
about  half-way  to  my  knees,  and  I  wondered  how  my 
pearl-gray  trousers  stood  up  under  that  introduction  to 
the  town. 

208 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

I  couldn't  see  Mr.  Dragg  or  anybody  else;  there  in  that 
bowl  among  the  hills  the  darkness  was  something  a  man 
could  eat!  We  stumbled  over  upheavals  of  muddy 
earth,  stepped  into  more  holes,  and  made  our  way  across 
the  especially  treacherous  places  along  single  planks 
which  were  half  submerged  in  mire.  A  few  lanterns,  tied 
to  short  posts,  were  dim  beacons  to  direct  new  arrivals  from 
the  railroad  to  the  heart  of  the  "city."  Quite  a  glare  of 
lights  marked  the  center  of  business  activity.  The  slope 
of  the  hillside  was  dotted  with  bits  of  radiance  from  un- 
curtained windows.  In  that  darkness  only  those  points 
of  light  hinted  at  the  extent  of  this  new  town.  The  dots 
were  widely  scattered,  showing  that  Royal  City  was  ambi- 
tiously endeavoring  to  cover  as  much  ground  as  possible. 

After  threading  the  course  marked  by  the  lanterns 
we  came  to  a  stretch  of  pulpy  mud  which  was  bordered 
by  a  sidewalk  of  four  planks  abreast,  evidently  the  main 
street  of  the  place.  There  were  buildings  of  considerable 
size  on  both  sides  of  the  thoroughfare,  but  these  buildings 
certainly  did  put  Royal  City  into  the  mushroom  class. 
There  was  not  a  bit  of  stone  or  brick  nor  a  clapboard  or 
shingle  in  evidence.  The  buildings  were  constructed  of 
beams,  boards,  laths,  and  tarred  paper.  They  gave  me 
the  feeling  that  I  could  pop  them  between  my  hands  like 
I'd  pop  a  blown-up  paper  bag. 

A  lantern,  hung  on  the  corner  of  a  building  containing 
a  store,  lighted  up  a  sign,  "Empire  Avenue."  The  sign 
over  the  door  of  the  store  advertised  the  place  as  the 
"Imperial  Emporium."  A  fairly  huge  structure  with 
tarred-paper  outer  walls  was  indicated  by  its  sign  as  being 
the  "Imperial  Hotel." 

There  was  nothing  bashful  about  the  names  picked  in 
Royal  City! 

The  windows  of  the  "Imperial  Hotel"  shed  plenty  of 
light  upon  the  sidewalk  in  front  of  it,  and  I  caught  sight 
of  Dragg  hurrying  past  as  if  he  wished  to  be  swallowed 
up  in  the  shadows  on  the  other  side.  The  man  had 

209 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

reached  the  street  ahead  of  us,  for  he  had  been  in  the 
smoking-car  at  the  front  of  the  train. 

I  took  a  chance  and  led  Kingsley  into  the  "Imperial 
Hotel"  and  registered  in  a  book  that  a  man  in  shirt- 
sleeves tossed  at  me.  I  wrote  "Adam  Mann"  and  "A. 
Fellow" — the  "A"  standing  for  "Another,"  of  course, 
and  that  wasn't  bad  for  a  quick  grab  at  names.  I  did 
not  care  to  advertise  the  name  of  Zebulon  Kingsley  to 
certain  gentlemen  in  those  parts. 

From  the  corner  of  my  eye  I  saw  Dragg  peering  in  at 
the  window  when  the  man  in  shirt-sleeves  led  us  up- 
stairs to  a  room  which  held  two  narrow  cots  and  an 
unpainted  washstand  with  bowl  and  pitcher.  The  walls 
were  of  tarred  paper. 

"Is  this  all  you  can  give  us  for  a  room?"  asked  the 
judge,  as  sour  as  vinegar. 

"  What  do  you  expect  in  a  new  town — marble  floors  and 
gold  door-knobs?  I  have  taken  care  of  better  men  than 
you  and  they  haven't  kicked."  He  turned  on  me;  I 
had  not  said  anything.  "You  seem  to  have  a  rush  of 
plug-hat  to  the  brain!" 

His  impudence  gave  me  my  chance.  Dragg  had  lo- 
cated me  at  that  hotel  and  I  wondered  if  I  couldn't  turn 
a  little  trick. 

"We'll  move  on  and  look  for  a  landlord  with  better 
manners,"  I  said. 

"Go  ahead,"  advised  the  man.  "A  lot  of  tenderfeet 
do  the  same  thing  and  after  they've  taken  a  look  at  the 
other  place  they  come  back  here  and  beg  for  a  room." 

On  the  street  I  kept  in  the  shadows.  After  a  time  we 
came  to  another  hulk  of  paper  and  boards.  Its  sign  read, 
"PaUace  Hotel." 

That  extravagance  in  L's  might  hint  at  generosity,  I 
pondered,  but  I  had  my  doubts. 

The  "Pallace"  had  a  bar-room  in  the  front  of  the 
house  and  there  were  many  customers  crowded  at  it. 

"We'd  better  go  back  to  the  other  hotel,  bad  as  it  is," 

210 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

suggested  the  judge.  "There  are  drunken  men  in  there 
and  it  is  a  wicked  place." 

I  put  up  my  hand  and  pushed  Kingsley  back  from  the 
window  into  the  gloom. 

"When  one  has  business  with  wicked  men  those  men 
must  be  followed  to  a  wicked  place,  sir.  I  found  'fault 
with  the  other  hotel  on  purpose.  I  didn't  intend  to  stay 
there  after  I  knew  that  a  certain  man  thought  he  had 
located  me  for  the  night.  It's  a  wise  plan  to  keep  wicked 
men  guessing.  Stay  back  here  a  moment!" 

I  stepped  along  and  stared  in  at  the  window,  hiding  my 
face  with  my  forearm. 

I  saw  Dragg  at  the  bar,  and  Dragg  had  a  man  by  the 
arm  and  was  whispering  in  his  ear.  Dragg's  face  expressed 
huge  pleasure.  He  slapped  the  man  on  the  back  and 
bought  drinks.  After  they  had  tossed  off  the  liquor, 
Dragg  resumed  his  business  at  the  man's  ear. 

This  man  stood  out  in  that  slouchy  group  at  the  bar  as 
a  peacock  would  stand  out  among  pullets  in  a  hen-yard. 
He  was  distinctly  a  loud  noise  in  the  matter  of  wardrobe. 
He  would  have  made  a  lurid  smear  even  among  the  high 
dressers  who  top  the  crests  of  the  Broadway  crowds 
between  Forty-second  Street  and  Greeley's  statue.  He 
was  of  that  sort  of  men  who  are  paunchy  and  seem  to 
be  glad  of  it,  because  the  extra  beam  affords  them  oppor- 
tunity to  display  variegated  waistcoats  to  better  advan- 
tage. I  realized  that  I  was  looking  on  "  Peacock  "  Pratt. 

After  a  few  moments  I  tiptoed  back  to  Kingsley,  and, 
without  speaking,  propelled  him  to  a  spot  where  he  could 
get  a  view  of  the  men  at  the  bar. 

"Do  you  recognize  anybody  there,  sir?" 

"There  he  is — the  man  who  brought  the  brick — one  of 
the  infernal  robbers!"  stuttered  Kingsley.  He  was  fairly 
beside  himself  with  sudden  excitement.  His  eyes  had 
fallen  first  on  the  most  conspicuous  figure  in  the  room. 
"  He  has  my  money.  I  want  it.  I'll — " 

But  I  pushed  him  back  when  he  started  to  rush  into 

211 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

the  hotel.  "I  guess  that  man  wouldn't  hand  you  his  roll 
if  you  ran  in  there  and  snapped  your  fingers  under  his 
nose,  Judge  Kingsley.  You  recognize  him,  eh?  That's 
enough  for  now.  I'll  tell  you  that  your  friend,  there,  is 
known  in  this  section  as  '  Peacock '  Pratt,  and  he's  a  good 
man  for  us  to  stay  away  from  for  the  present." 

"How  do  you  know  so  much  about  these  men — how 
do  you  know  where  to  come  to  find  them — dragging  me 
across  the  continent?"  demanded  the  old  man.  His  fury 
at  sight  of  that  smug  blackleg  had  to  blow  off  and  I  was  the 
nearest  object. 

"I'll  have  to  confess  that  I  didn't  know  for  sure  I  was 
to  see  this  man  here  to-night.  I  had  my  line  out  and  a 
good  bait  on,  but  I  didn't  believe  I'd  get  a  bite  so  soon. 
You  must  keep  cool,  Judge  Kingsley — keep  cool  and  out 
of  sight.  Simply  seeing  that  man  isn't  getting  your  money. 
We've  got  considerable  of  a  job  ahead  of  us." 

The  judge  was  all  of  a  tremble  while  we  stood  there  at 
the  edge  of  the  shadow  and  watched  the  room  and  the 
drinkers.  At  last,  with  a  flourish  of  his  hand,  Pratt  gave 
orders  to  the  bartender  to  fill  all  glasses.  We  heard  his 
hoarse  voice  above  all  others.  He  tossed  a  bill  on  the  bar 
and  he  and  Dragg  left  in  company  and  climbed  the  stairs 
leading  up  from  the  hotel  office. 

"Judge  Kingsley,"  I  said,  "I  left  the  other  place  and 
came  over  here  hoping  I  could  sneak  close  enough  to  a 
certain  chap  to  overhear  what  he  proposes  to  do  about 
a  little  matter  that  I  suggested  to  him  a  few  hours  ago. 
I  see  that  he  has  found  somebody  to  talk  to.  We've  got 
a  handy  sort  of  house  for  eavesdropping,  but  I  want  you 
to  remember  that  the  other  fellow  can  hear  us,  too. 
Come  along  with  me  and  keep  your  head.  A  lot  depends !" 

The  "Pallace"  was  evidently  more  of  a  free  and  easy 
tavern  than  the  "Imperial."  There  was  no  register  on 
the  planks  which  served  for  an  office  desk.  The  pro- 
prietor looked  up  at  us  and  leisurely  lighted  his  pipe 
before  answering  my  questions  regarding  accommodations. 

212 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"Four  dollars  apiece — two  in  a  room.  Pay  now.  In- 
cludes breakfast,  and  there's  a  cold,  stand-up  supper  out 
in  the  dining-room." 

"We  bought  box  lunches  from  the  brakeman  on  the 
train;  we  don't  want  supper,"  I  explained. 

"Price  just  the  same.  Supper  is  there,  and  I  ain't  to 
blame  if  you  don't  want  to  eat  it,"  stated  the  proprietor. 
"You  needn't  look  for  any  place  to  write  your  names," 
he  added,  noting  that  my  eyes  seemed  to  be  searching 
for  something  that  should  be  on  the  desk.  "We  don't 
keep  books.  And  half  the  men  who  come  along  here 
can't  write,  anyway." 

I  laid  the  money  in  his  grimy  hand  and  he  fished  two 
cards  from  his  vest  pocket  and  scrawled  "Brakfust"  on 
each  with  a  lead-pencil. 

"Give  'em  up  to  the  table-girl  in  the  morning.  Now, 
gents,  all  the  rooms  up-stairs  are  just  alike  and  there  ain't 
no  locks  on  the  doors.  Go  up  and  help  yourselves  to  any 
room  that  ain't  being  used.  I  hope  you  don't  snore, 
either  of  you.  It's  apt  to  start  gun-play  from  them  that's 
trying  to  get  to  sleep  in  other  rooms,  and  the  walls  we've 
got  up-stairs  don't  stop  bullets.  Sleep  hearty!" 

The  judge  followed  me,  muttering  his  opinions  in  regard 
to  the  hotel  methods  in  Royal  City. 

"Hush!"  I  warned.  " Tread  lightly  and  keep  still.  It's 
a  stroke  of  luck  that  he  lets  us  pick  our  own  rooms." 

Smoky,  stinking  kerosene-lamps  lighted  dimly  the  cor- 
ridor up-stairs.  Unplaned  planks  formed  the  floor,  and 
here  again  were  the  walls  of  tarred  paper  that  had  enabled 
Royal  City  to  grow  overnight.  Some  of  the  doors  that 
gave  upon  the  corridor  were  open,  and  the  rooms  were 
dark  and  apparently  untenanted.  Light  shone  from 
chinks  in  the  walls  here  and  there,  in  other  places,  showing 
that  guests  were  in  their  rooms. 

I  tiptoed  cautiously  along  the  planks  with  ear  out  at 
each  point  where  light  sifted  from  crannies.  Then  I 
grasped  the  judge  by  the  arm  and  thrust  him  into  a 

213 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

room.  I  lighted  the  tiny  lamp  and  motioned  the  old 
man  to  take  a  seat  in  the  single  chair.  I  sat  on  the 
edge  of  the  bed. 

When  a  drunken  man  is  on  a  topic  that  sops  up  all  his 
interest,  he  not  only  iterates,  he  reiterates.  It  is  hard 
to  pry  a  wabbly  tongue  loose  from  the  favorite  topic. 
Intoxication  seems  to  make  the  subject  fresher  and  more 
entrancing  with  each  repetition.  The  fuddled  mind  gets 
into  a  run-around,  as  men  lost  in  snow  or  fog  keep  on  travel- 
ing and  always  return  to  the  same  place.  I  had  no 
means  of  determining  how  many  times  Dragg  had  been 
over  the  subject  with  Mr.  Pratt,  but  that  latter  gentleman 
kept  snarling  out  protests  that  the  narrator  did  not  heed. 
It  was  a  story  about  how  a  stranger  in  a  plug-hat — a  shark 
of  a  lawyer — had  hypnotized  him,  Dragg,  on  the  train  and 
had  sucked  out  of  him  all  his  plans,  projects,  and  secrets 
in  regard  to  the  new  city  of  Breed  and  now  proposed  to 
rob  said  Dragg  of  all  profits  and  rake-offs,  and  if  a  man 
could  do  that  and  get  away  with  it  what  would  be  the 
use  in  any  honest  man  starting  out  in  the  world  and 
turning  a  trick  for  himself,  as  Dragg  had  proposed  to  do? 
So  on  and  on,  he  gabbled. 

"  Say,  look  here, '  Dangerflag ' " — and  this  seemed  a  good 
nickname  for  Dragg's  red  face — "don't  con  me  any  more 
as  the  human  charlotte  russe — the  top  part  of  me  is  hard  I 
There  ain't  any  such  thing  as  hypnotizing  a  man  when 
he  doesn't  want  to  be  hypnotized.  You  were  drunk 
and  you  slit  open  your  little  bundle  of  playthings  for 
him  to  look  at." 

"If  I  wasn't  hypnotized  how  did  he  get  two  guns 
off  me — and  I  sitting  there  not  able  to  move  hand  or  foot 
or  wink  my  eyes?" 

"I'd  be  more  inclined  to  think  you  begged  him  to  take 
'em  as  a  guarantee  of  friendship,  and  offered  to  kiss  him 
in  the  bargain,"  sneered  Mr.  Pratt.  "I've  seen  you 
drunk,  Dragg." 

"But  I  wasn't  to  the  give-my-shirt  drunk  stage  that 

214 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

time,"  insisted  the  other.  "  I  was  hiring  him  for  a  lawyer — 
driving  a  sharp  trade  with  him — and  then  he  hypnotized 
me  and  cleaned  me  out.  And  he's  over  there  in  the 
other  hotel — and  I'm  going  to  get  to  him  before  he  puts 
me  out  of  business.  I'll  tell  you  again — " 

"For  the  love  of  Jehoshaphat  don't  tell  me  again!"  pro- 
tested Pratt.  "I  have  got  it  by  heart." 

"But  you  haven't  told  me  where  Ike  Dawlin  is.  He 
is  the  only  man  that  shark  is  afraid  of.  He  told  me  so. 
He  reckons  that  Ike  is  in  the  East.  That  makes  him  bold 
to  do  me  dirt.  I  made  believe  that  I  know  where  Ike  is. 
I  tried  to  scare  him,  but  the  bluff  didn't  go.  He  is  sure 
that  Ike  ain't  West.  You're  Ike's  regular  partner,  and 
you  know  where  he  is.  I  need  him.  Send  for  him,  and 
we'll  hold  that  plug-hatted  skyootus  here  till  Ike  can 
whirl  in  and  back  him  off.  Blast  him !  I  could  have  dropped 
him  if  this  was  ten  years  ago,  even  if  he  was  from  the  East 
and  wore  a  plug-hat — and  I  could  have  got  away  with 
it — but  the  law  sharks  have  been  and  tied  us  all  up." 

'You  want  to  think  twice  before  you  try  gun-play 
on  a  man  from  the  East  who  comes  wearing  a  plug-hat," 
advised  Pratt.  "It's  a  pretty  good  sign  that  he  is  from 
the  upper  shelves  back  home,  and  somebody  will  be 
slammed  hard  if  he  gets  hurt.  Keep  your  hands  off  a 
plug-hatter,  '  Dangerflag.'  I  don't  believe  Ike  would 
dip  in,  even  if  he  were  here.  He's  too  comfortable  just 
now  to  play  scarecrow  f  cr  your  private  interests.  He  might 
if  I  asked  him  to,  of  course.  But  I  don't  see  any  reason 
for  asking  him." 

"I'll  give  you  a  half  share  in  the  Breed  job,"  promised 
Dragg.  "I've  told  you  I  would  if  you  can  gaff  that  law 
shark." 

"The  Breed  job  looks  like  digging  into  a  national  bank 
vault  with  your  thumb-nail,"  remarked  Mr.  Pratt,  list- 
lessly. "A  lot  of  law  and  complications!  This  re-locating 
business  runs  against  snags  always.  I  don't  mind  telling 
you  that  Ike  and  I  find  the  old  game  a  lot  easier  when  we 

15  215 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

want  to  clean  up  an  easy  make.  I'll  be  blamed  if  we 
could  sell  mining  stock  the  last  time  we  went  East.  What 
do  you  know  about  that  ?  And  then  we  nudged  each  other 
and  turned  around  and  speared  three  easy  propositions 
on  the  good  old  gold-brick  game.  You  wouldn't  believe 
they'd  still  fall — but  they  do  it.  It's  simply  a  case  of  go 
hunt  in  the  odd  corners  for  the  right  man.  They're  there, 
waiting.  We  peeled  five  thousand  off  the  back  of  an  old 
town  treasurer — as  soft  money  as  we  ever  pulled.  A 
town  treasurer,  mind  you !  We  didn't  have  to  go  farther 
into  the  bush  than  that !  You  can't  expect  us  to  be  very 
enthusiastic  about  a  claim-jumping  proposition  just  now — 
with  plenty  in  our  pockets.  Gimme  a  match !  When  you 
go  to  fighting  a  boom  city  and  a  railroad  crowd,  you've 
got  your  work  cut  out  for  you — and  just  now  I'm  feeling 
a  lot  like  loafing." 

Mr.  Pratt  was  very  wordy — but  he  was  almighty  in- 
teresting. Who  was  hugging  the  most  money — he  or 
Dawlin? 

It  was  plain  to  me  that  the  town  treasurer  of  Levant 
was  holding  in  with  difficulty.  He  twisted  on  his  chair 
and  his  face  was  gray  with  anger  and  his  lips  moved. 
I  scowled  a  warning. 

"Well,  you  can  loaf  on  my  job  all  right  if  you'll  grab 
in,"  snapped  Dragg,  temper  in  his  voice.  "I'm  not  asking 
you  to  break  your  neck.  You  have  got  the  thing  sized 
up  all  wrong.  I  don't  expect  to  own  Breed.  I'm  going 
to  operate  on  bluff.  The  Breed  boomers  and  the  railroad 
will  come  across  rather  than  have  the  city  set  back  by  a 
hold-up  of  everything  while  land  titles  are  being  settled. 
If  they'll  hand  me  cash,  I'll  keep  still,  surrender  my  claim, 
and  the  new  lines  can  be  run  and  locations  filed  before 
anybody  wakes  up.  They'll  see  the  point  all  right." 

"And  I  reckon  that  the  lawyer  you  hired  on  the  train 
sees  it  all  right,  too,"  commented  Pratt. 

"I  don't  know  what  made  me  blow  myself  to  him  after 
I  had  dodged  lawyers  so  long,"  mourned  Dragg.  "But 

216 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

the  way  he  was  dressed  made  him  look  so  mighty  solid 
and  reliable  and  honest — and  his  eyes  were  nice  and 
brown!  He  got  me!  I  tell  you  I  was  hypnotized.  It 
wasn't  just  because  I  had  budge  in  me.  But  he'll  never 
get  to  Breed  ahead  of  me.  That  '11  be  his  game,  of  course." 

"Better  make  your  getaway  to-night  and  beat  him  to 
it,"  suggested  Pratt. 

Dragg  was  profane  in  his  rejection  of  this  counsel.  He 
stated  that  Pratt  ought  to  have  more  sense  than  to  think 
a  project  of  that  order  could  be  settled  by  a  sprinting- 
match. 

"You  know  what  Callas  prairie  is  in  March  as  well 
as  I  do,"  he  sputtered.  "It  would  be  a  gamble  which 
one  of  us  would  get  across  first  if  it  comes  to  a  race  through 
that  "dobe'  mud.  It's  all  luck  whether  a  stage-coach  or 
a  wagon  or  a  cayuse  gets  through.  I'd  have  gone  around 
and  come  into  Breed  from  the  south,  but  I  thought  I'd 
rather  tackle  sixteen  miles  of  Callas  mud  in  March  than 
ride  six  hundred  miles  in  jerk-water  trains.  See  here, 
Pratt,  I've  got  to  have  time  to  operate  this  thing  without 
that  shark  hanging  to  me.  He's  afraid  of  Ike.  I  don't 
know  what  made  him  tell  me  so — but  he  was  so  mighty 
sure  that  Ike  was  East  that  he  wanted  to  shoot  his  mouth 
off  a  little  so  as  to  aggravate  me,  I  reckon.  He  has  got 
to  be  held  here  in  Royal  City  till  I  can  pull  off  my  job 
in  Breed.  I'm  not  going  to  have  him  racing  me  around 
over  the  country,  with  a  chance  of  his  queering  the  whole 
proposition.  Now  come  into  this  thing  and  help  me  out, 
will  you?" 

Mr.  Pratt  yawned  audibly  and  allowed  that  he  would 
not. 

"Then  get  word  to  Ike  Dawlin  for  me,"  pleaded  Dragg. 

"  I  don't  think  he  wants  to  be  bothered,"  drawled  Pratt, 
indifferently.  "  I  won't  send  for  him.  That's  final!" 

I  think  it  would  have  been  hard  telling  at  that  moment 
who  was  more  disappointed,  Mr.  Dragg  or  myself! 

I  had  reckoned  specially  on  Mr.  Dawlin.  He  was  boss 

217 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

of  the  gang,  according  to  his  brother's  telling.  In  all 
likelihood  he  was  better  thatched  with  greenbacks  than 
anybody  else  in  the  band. 

"Furthermore,"  stated  Mr.  Pratt,  "I  can't  be  bothered 
with  your  business.  I  have  some  of  my  own  to  attend  to. 
I'm  going  to  jump  the  train  to-morrow  and  get  back  to 
some  place  where  it's  safe  to  wear  real  clothes  instead  of 
a  diving-suit  or  overalls." 

And  so  I  was  going  to  lose  Mr.  Pratt ! 

To  be  sure,  I  had  not  exactly  made  up  my  mind  what 
to  do  with  him  if  he  remained  in  Royal  City;  but  if  he 
were  to  start  on  some  kind  of  a  hike  and  we  were  obliged 
to  chase  him  we  would  betray  ourselves  and  our  case,  sure 
as  fate.  Mr.  Pratt  was  certainly  no  fool,  and  would  know 
how  to  cover  a  trail  the  moment  he  suspected  that  some- 
body was  chasing  him.  But  I  could  see  no  reasonable 
way  of  keeping  an  independent  gentleman  of  his  nature 
in  that  dump  of  a  Royal  City. 

"I  tell  you,  you  are  turning  down  a  good  lay  when 
you  duck  out  on  this  Breed — " 

"Oh,  hell!"  snapped  Pratt  with  all  kinds  of  coarse  scorn 
in  his  tone.  "About  all  this  re-locating  business  amounts 
to  is  that  you'll  either  be  bored  in  the  back  or  boarded  in 
jail!  I've  been  studying  the  game,  Dragg."  He  grew 
confidential.  "That's  why  I  ran  down  here  to  this  hog- 
wallow.  Ike  and  I  came.  These  lines  here  are  run  by 
guess  and  by  gad!  There's  no  clear  title  back  of  the  land. 
We  figured  we  would  jump  in." 

"You'd  have  the  law  behind  you,"  insisted  Dragg. 

"Sure!  And  all  the  citizens  who  own  guns,  too!  The 
trouble  is,  Dragg,  they  all  know  they're  skating  on  thin 
ice.  They  are  looking  for  something  to  drop.  And  so 
as  to  be  ready  for  trouble  when  it  comes  they  have  gone 
to  work  and  got  just  as  mad  as  they  can  stick  so  that  they 
can  put  a  claim-jumper  where  he  belongs  in  a  hurry. 
None  of  it  for  me,  Dragg." 

The  other  muttered. 

218 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"I  tell  you,  Dragg,"  insisted  Mr.  Pratt,  "I'd  hate  to 
be  the  man  to  put  my  name  on  to  a  re-location  stake  in 
this  place!  Law  to  back  you— yes!  But  I  have  been 
testing  out  their  temper!  It's  dangerous." 

"But  mobs  don't  do  up  men  any  longer  in  this  part  of 
the  country." 

"Perhaps  I  stated  it  a  little  strong,  Dragg.  But  a 
fellow  who  tries  to  put  anything  over  on  this  town,  with 
the  people  here  in  their  present  temper,  will  get  slammed 
into  the  pen — and  there's  no  knowing  when  they'll  let 
him  out!" 

And  if  that  wasn't  a  straight  tip  from  Mr.  Pratt  to  a 
poor  young  chap  in  desperate  need  of  good  counsel  and 
help  in  a  ticklish  matter,  then  I'm  no  guesser. 

"So  it's  back  up  the  line  for  me — where  I  can  buy  a 
cocktail  and  get  the  smell  of  this  tarred  paper  out  of  my 
clothes!" 

But  Mr.  Pratt's  tip  was  such  a  helpful  one  that,  pro- 
viding Judge  Kingsley  had  had  a  drop  of  sporting  blood 
in  him,  I  would  have  posted  a  little  bet  that  Mr.  Pratt 
would  stay  on  with  us  for  a  while.  I  could  see  that  the 
judge  had  made  up  his  mind  already  that  we  had  lost 
our  Mr.  Pratt. 

"Sit  here  and  don't  make  a  sound!"  I  whispered,  and 
I  pussy-footed  for  the  door. 

He  opened  his  mouth  and  I  shook  my  fist  at  him.  I 
hoped  I  had  on  a  demoniac  expression — I  tried  to  put  one 
on. 

'Go  to  the  devil,  you  and  Dawlin,  too!"  barked  Dragg. 
"  If  I've  got  to  handle  this  thing  single-handed,  the  make 
will  be  all  the  bigger  for  me.  I'm  all  done  worrying  about 
an  Eastern  shyster  beating  me  out  of  the  game  on  my  own 
stamping-ground.  If  he  tries  to  take  the  stage  in  the 
morning  to  cross  Callas  prairie,  I'll  smash  that  plug-hat 
down  over  his  eyes,  yank  them  guns  out  from  under  his 
coat-tail  and  blow  him  into  the  middle  of  next  week. 
I'll  think  up  a  story  that  will  let  me  out." 

219 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

Ah,  so  Mr.  Dragg  must  be  considered  along  with  "Mr. 
Pratt  and  Mr.  Dawlin! 

I  left  the  room  and  hurried  down-stairs,  hoping  the  stores 
had  not  closed.  My  mind  was  mighty  busy!  I  found 
a  store  that  was  still  open.  It  was  the  "Imperial  Em- 
porium" and  seemed  to  be  well  named,  for  I  was  able 
to  purchase  there  a  pair  of  shears,  some  spirit  gum,  a 
carpenter's  lead-pencil,  and  a  huge  ball  of  twine.  Then  I 
hustled  back  to  Zebulon  Kingsley,  who  sat  livid  and  rigid, 
listening  to  the  bragging  of  the  man  who  had  robbed  him. 

I  suppose  the  stuff  I  tossed  on  the  bed  looked  mighty 
queer  to  him,  and  I  wasn't  just  sure  about  all  of  it  myself. 
But  I  did  not  dare  to  ask  any  leading  questions  in  Royal 
City  about  claim-jumping  and  I  decided  to  tumble  along 
alone,  doing  my  little  best  as  an  amateur. 

Zebulon  Kingsley  was  in  a  sufficiently  volcanic  state 
of  mind  without  any  more  stirring  up. 

It's  a  wonder  that  I  ever  got  away  with  what  I  started 
on  next  in  my  case. 

Perhaps  his  settled  idea  that  I  had  lost  my  mind  as- 
sisted in  taming  him  enough  so  that  he  submitted  in  his 
fear  that  I  might  become  violent.  I  look  back  now  and 
wonder  how  I  ever  presumed  so  greatly  even  in  the 
emergency  that  had  arisen.  But  if  "Peacock"  Pratt  were 
to  remain  in  Royal  City  and  if  Ike  Dawlin  would  join 
him,  as  I  anticipated,  the  man  with  me  must  not  be 
known  as  Zebulon  Kingsley,  of  Levant,  their  victim. 
So  I  stood  in  front  of  Judge  Kingsley  and  issued  an  ulti- 
matum. 

I'll  never  forget  the  look  on  his  face' 


XIX 

THE  JOB   OP  AN  ALTRUIST 

THE  judge  sat  there  with  his  hat  and  coat  on;  the 
looks  of  that  room  did  not  invite  anybody  to  take 
any  comfort  in  it. 

I  leaned  close  to  his  ear  and  told  him  to  stand  up. 
Then  I  began  to  peel  off  his  wrappings — overcoat,  under- 
coat, and  waistcoat.  But  when  I  unbuttoned  his  collar 
he  pushed  me  away. 

"  I'll  explain  it  out  to  you  just  as  soon  as  I  get  a  chance, 
sir,"  I  whispered.  "  But  we  mustn't  make  any  noise  here." 
I  gathered  my  courage.  "I'm  going  to  cut  off  your 
beard!"  I  had  to  clap  my  hand  over  his  mouth  to  keep 
him  quiet.  "I  can't  argue  now!  If  Pratt  lays  eyes  on 
you  he'll  stampede.  We  mustn't  let  any  of  that  money 
get  away."  I  pushed  him  back  upon  the  chair.  "Keep 
down  your  hands,"  I  urged.  "It's  got  to  be  done.  Your 
money  is  at  stake — remember  that !  What's  a  few  whiskers 
compared  with  ten  thousand  dollars!"  I  was  talking  just 
as  if  I  expected  to  swap  hair  for  money. 

I  confess  I  did  not  have  much  of  a  plan  worked  out 
just  at  that  moment — but  certain  notions  were  coming  to 
me  in  sections,  as  one  might  say.  And  the  principal 
notion  just  then  was  that  I  must  not  let  a  set  of  whiskers, 
even  if  they  grew  on  Judge  Kingsley,  flag  the  whole 
proposition.  That  was  the  first  thing  to  look  after,  now 
that  we  were  close  to  the  game — change  his  looks! 

He  realized  as  well  as  I  that  we  couldn't  start  any  riot 
there  on  our  side  of  that  paper  partition.  I  don't  believe 
any  other  consideration  would  have  made  him  give  in 

221 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

to  me.  If  I  had  been  getting  his  neck  ready  for  the  ax 
his  looks  would  not  have  been  more  wild.  I  clipped  his 
beard  as  carefully  as  I  could  with  the  shears  and  laid  the 
tufts,  as  I  removed  them,  in  a  little  heap  on  the  bed. 

Mr.  Pratt  was  thoroughly  tired  of  hearing  Mr.  Dragg 
repeat  himself;  we  knew  that  because  Mr.  Pratt  said  so 
with  a  lot  of  vigor  and  stated  that  he  was  going  to  bed  in 
his  own  room. 

Mr.  Dragg  advised  him  to  be  up  early  and  see  what 
happened  to  the  "plug-hatter,"  providing  said  "plug- 
hatter"  tried  to  get  away  for  Breed  on  the  stage. 

"I'll  do  it,"  promised  Mr.  Pratt.  " I  haven't  been  hav- 
ing much  fun  down  in  this  hog-wallow,  and  I  need  to 
have  my  feelings  cheered  up." 

Then  he  marched  away  down  the  corridor,  making  the 
whole  building  creak  and  shiver. 

Mr.  Dragg  had  considerable  to  say  to  himself,  in  the 
way  of  rehearsing  his  threats,  while  he  was  kicking  off 
his  shoes  and  getting  ready  for  bed.  Then  his  mutterings 
ended  in  a  rasping  snore — and  he  was  off! 

I  was  glad  he  was  asleep  because  that  gave  me  a  chance 
to  talk  to  the  judge,  keeping  my  voice  down  cautiously. 

"I  have  some  other  plans,  sir!  I  have  had  to  think 
pretty  quick!  But  the  talk  between  those  scamps  has 
given  me  a  rather  good  idea,  I  think." 

"You  seem  to  be  wasting  your  time  on  a  lot  of  silly 
business,"  muttered  the  judge.  "This  is  boy's  play  out 
of  a  detective  dime  novel,  sir.  We  know  where  one  of  the 
robbers  is.  We  can  have  him  arrested.  We  can  put  the 
screws  to  him  and  find  out  where  the  other  renegade  is." 

"But  that  means  going  to  law,  Judge!" 

"We  must  let  the  law  handle  it  from  now  on." 

"We  can't  afford  to  do  that,  sir." 

"But  the  law  will— " 

"  The  law  will  grab  the  crooks,  maybe.  But  your  money 
will  be  tied  up  along  with  'em.  We  are  strangers  out  here, 
Judge  Kingsley.  And  you  don't  want  the  notoriety  of 

222 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

the  thing.  Remember,  you  bought  a  gold  brick!"  He 
winced,  but  it  wasn't  on  account  of  the  shears!  "Just 
getting  those  crooks  into  jail  won't  help  your  case," 
I  insisted.  "We  haven't  much  time  to  turn  around 
in.  The  fifteenth  of  April  isn't  very  far  away.  I  reckon 
it's  going  to  mean  getting  ten  thousand  dollars  in  ten 
days!"  He  cringed.  "The  law  is  too  slow  and  careful 
for  us  just  now!  They  pulled  that  money  off  by  a  trick. 
We  must  get  it  back  by —  Well,  I  don't  know  just  yet 
how  we'll  get  it  back — but  it  won't  be  by  any  law  busi- 
ness." 

"Do  you  intend  to  rob  them  and  mix  me  into  more 
trouble?" 

"  I'd  rob  'em  in  a  minute  if  I  could  do  it  and  get  away," 
I  told  him,  calmly.  And  then,  because  he  was  getting 
excited,  I  advised  him  to  keep  his  jaw  still  so  that  the 
shears  might  not  slip  and  cut  him. 

When  the  clipping  was  done  I  got  my  little  kit  out  of 
my  bag  and  got  ready  to  shave  him;  there  was  a  tin  dish 
full  of  water  in  the  corner  of  the  room.  Of  course  he 
was  glad  to  have  the  stubble  I  had  left  under  his  chin 
scraped  off,  and  submitted  quietly.  However,  I  knew 
my  real  tussle  with  Judge  Zebulon  Kingsley  was  just 
ahead  of  me. 

On  the  wall  there  was  a  little  mirror  with  glass  so  wavy 
that  it  made  a  human  face  seem  like  the  physog  of  a  ba- 
boon. I  pulled  it  down  and  showed  the  judge  his  coun- 
tenance with  his  whiskers  off. 

"You  see  it  doesn't  change  your  looks  very  much, 
after  all,  Judge..  Your  beard  was  all  under  your  chin 
instead  of  on  your  face."  I  didn't  want  to  jump  him  too 
suddenly. 

"  If  you  have  changed  my  looks  as  much  as  that  glass 
represents,  you've  done  a  good  job,"  he  said,  dryly.  It 
was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  heard  anything  like  humor 
from  him,  and  I  was  cheered  and  made  bolder — so  bold 
that  I  came  right  out  with  it! 

223 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"  I'll  have  to  change  your  appearance  just  a  bit  more, 
Judge.  I  know  how  to  do  it,  for  I  did  it  once  in  my  own 
case." 

I  uncorked  the  bottle  of  gum.  But  when  I  started 
toward  him  he  did  not  depend  on  his  hands  for  defense — 
he  put  up  his  foot  and  pushed  me  away.  I  protested. 

"There's  no  use  going  half-way  in  this  thing,  sir.  It 
only  means  a  mustache  for  you  out  of  your  own  beard." 

"I  won't  be  cockawhooped  up  in  any  such  style!" 

"Are  you  going  to  let  those  men  recognize  you  as  the 
town  treasurer  of  Levant?" 

He  glared  at  me  and  kept  his  foot  up. 

"We're  after  the  money — we're  after  the  money!"  I 
urged.  "Just  think  what  a  little  thing  this  is  you're 
balking  on,  sir!" 

"But  you  give  me  no  hint  as  to  how  you  expect  to  get 
the  money!  I'm  at  the  end  of  my  patience.  I  won't 
submit  to  any  more  foolishness." 

"This  isn't  foolishness,  Judge  Kingsley!  It's  a  pre- 
caution we  must  take.  I've  got  a  plan  to  keep  those 
men  from  jumping  out  on  us  in  the  morning — and  they'll 
be  sure  to  see  you."  I  pushed  down  his  foot  and  I  picked 
up  the  hair  on  the  bed  and  looked  resolute.  "  It's  got  to 
be  done,  sir.  I'm  going  to  do  it!" 

He  gave  in  to  me  as  he  had  in  other  cases  when  I  became 
savage,  but  I  realized  that  fury  boiled  in  him. 

I  made  a  mighty  good  job  of  it,  if  I  do  say  so,  but  he 
angrily  refused  to  look  at  himself  in  the  glass.  I  used  all 
the  hair  in  his  beard  and  gave  him  a  mustache  that  fairly 
cut  in  half  that  hatchet  face  of  his;  his  best  friend  would 
not  have  known  Judge  Kingsley. 

I  advised  him  to  go  to  bed  and  to  be  sure  to  sleep  on 
his  back  so  that  the  mustache  would  not  be  disturbed. 

I  sharpened  the  carpenter's  pencil  and  hid  the  ball  of 
twine  under  my  coat,  the  judge  looking  at  me  as  savage 
as  a  bear. 

"  Now  what?"  he  growled. 

224 


WHERE   YOUR  TREASURE   IS 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  the  right  way  of  re- 
locating a  claim?"  I  asked.  "Anything  in  law  about  it?" 

"It's  more  likely  to  be  described  in  the  thieves'  cate- 
chism," he  snarled.  "I  have  never  owned  a  copy!" 

That's  all  the  help  I  got  from  him! 

Well,  if  I  didn't  know  much  about  the  regular  way, 
I  reckoned  I  could  make  considerable  trouble  in  town  by 
blundering  along  with  a  little  way  of  my  own.  So  I  tip- 
toed down-stairs. 

Apparently  Royal  City  had  quit  the  job  and  gone  to 
sleep.  The  hotel  office  was  dark,  and  when  I  stepped 
forth  into  the  night  there  was  no  glimmer  of  light  any- 
where. Even  the  lanterns  that  served  as  the  city's  munici- 
pal lighting-plant  in  the  streets  had  burned  out  or  had 
been  blown  out.  It  was  a  case  of  grope,  but  I  had  looked 
about  carefully  when  I  went  shopping  and  had  a  pretty 
good  memory  for  locations. 

There  was  a  little  pile  of  laths  at  the  corner  of  the  hotel. 
I  had  noticed  them  when  I  had  lurked  in  the  shadows 
with  Judge  Kingsley.  I  picked  up  a  lath  and  wrote  on 
its  side,  well  up  toward  one  end,  "Relocated.  Dragg." 
Then  I  pushed  the  lath  down  into  the  mud  at  the  corner 
of  the  hotel  and  tied  to  it  the  end  of  the  ball  of  twine. 
With  several  laths  under  my  arm  I  proceeded  a  few  paces, 
unwinding  the  twine,  and  pushed  another  lath  down  and 
knotted  my  string  about  its  end.  Thus  I  circumnavigated 
the  hotel,  sticking  down  marked  laths,  knotting  about 
them  the  twine.  In  this  fashion  I  calculated  I  had  de- 
clared on  one  Dragg  a  re-location  of  the  hotel  site — or 
rather  made  it  seem  that  Dragg  had  tried  on  a  clumsy 
trick  to  jump  a  land  claim. 

With  footsteps  muffled  by  the  mud  of  Royal  City, 
moving  unseen  in  the  night,  I  was  truly  a  generous  cuss. 
I  located  nothing  for  myself.  I  took  the  "Imperial 
Emporium"  for  Pratt,  and  re-located  the  site  of  the  "Im- 
perial Hotel"  for  Dawlin.  Then  I  stole  back  into  the 
tavern,  taking  off  my  muddy  shoes  at  the  door. 

225 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

That  slatted  bed  and  the  snores  pealing  everywhere 
kept  me  awake  nearly  all  night,  and  next  morning  I  was 
down  before  anybody  else  was  stirring.  In  the  gray  dawn 
out  slouched  from  an  inner  room  the  landlord,  yawning, 
growling,  blinking — beginning  his  day's  duties  in  a  dis- 
tinctly grouchy  frame  of  mind. 

"  What  time  does  the  stage-coach  leave  for  Breed  City?" 
I  asked. 

"Nobody  but  a  fool  would  take  a  stage  for  Breed  this 
time  of  year — but  a  man  who  comes  out  here  in  March 
and  mud-time,  wearing  a  plug-hat,  must  be  a  fool.  So 
you'll  leave  at  ha'f  pas'  six,"  was  the  landlord's  genial 
response. 

"  And  what  time  is  breakfast?" 

"Time  for  you  to  get  the  stage.  What  do  you  want  to 
ask  such  a  cussed  fool  question  as  that  for?  What  do  you 
think  I'm  getting  up  to  do  at  this  hour  in  the  morning?" 

Well,  I  wasn't  in  any  jolly  mood  myself.  "I  didn't 
know  but  you  might  be  up  to  sing  a  hymn  to  the  morning 
star." 

"Say,  you're  looking  for  trouble,  ain't  you?"  bawled 
the  landlord.  He  came  from  behind  the  counter.  "I'll 
cave  that  plug — " 

That  made  me  good  and  mad!  "No,  I'm  looking  for 
cartridges  to  fit  my  guns,"  I  stated,  pulling  both  weapons. 
"I've  got  only  twelve  left — six  in  each  chamber." 

My  friend  checked  himself  so  suddenly  that  he  nearly 
tumbled  on  his  nose. 

"Does  the  store  open  early?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  landlord,  quite  respectfully. 

"Then  I'll  take  a  stroll  up  that  way.  Make  my  bacon 
thick  and  be  very  careful  not  to  fry  the  juice  out  of  it." 

There's  nothing  like  establishing  a  bit  of  a  reputation 
in  a  strange  town,  especially  if  a  fellow  has  planted  seeds 
of  trouble;  I  could  see  those  laths  through  the  window! 
I  had  begun  to  feel  rather  devilish. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  landlord.    "We  aim  to  please." 

226 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

I  glanced  at  my  work  of  the  evening  before  as  I  sauntered 
along  the  plank  walk.  The  new  laths  and  the  white  twine 
showed  up  well  against  the  black  adobe  mud. 

Sounds  of  housekeeping,  clatter  of  dishes  and  of  stove- 
covers  indicated  that  the  proprietor  of  the  "Emporium" 
dwelt  over  the  store.  I  rattled  the  door,  and  at  last  the 
man  appeared  and  unlocked  it  from  within.  He  was 
surly  and  slatted  the  box  of  cartridges  across  the  counter. 

"Is  it  because  you  don't  care  for  early  customers  that 
you  have  built  a  fence  of  laths  and  string  about  your 
place?"  I  inquired. 

"There  ain't  no  such  thing  there."  But  he  hurried  to 
the  door.  He  gazed.  He  ran  to  the  nearest  lath  and 
stooped  down  and  read  what  was  written  thereon  and 
cracked  his  fists  together  and  kicked  the  lath  and  stamped 
it  into  the  mud  and  swore  loudly.  "Pratt,  hey?  'Pea- 
cock' Pratt  trying  one  of  his  gambling  bluffs  because 
titles  ain't  been  settled  here  yet,  is  he?  If  a  kettle- 
bellied  catfish  like  Pratt  thinks  he  can  jump  a  city  lot  on 
me  he's  got  trouble  coming  his  way  on  the  down  grade  with 
the  axle  greased." 

There  was  much  more  that  the  infuriated  merchant 
had  to  say  regarding  the  general  standing  of  Pratt,  but  I 
did  not  linger.  I  strolled  into  the  "  Imperial  Hotel." 

"I  knew  you'd  come  back — they  all  do;  but  you  can't 
do  business  with  me,"  the  landlord  informed  me  before 
I  had  opened  my  mouth.  "Once  you  turn  your  nose  up 
at  my  house,  then  up  it  stays,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned ! 
Mosey  back  to  your  pig-pen!" 

"Very  well!  But  I'll  drop  back  here  when  the  new 
proprietor  takes  hold." 

"What  new  proprietor?" 

"I  suppose  it's  a  man  named  Dawlin.  I  note  that  his 
name  appears  as  the  man  who  has  re-located  this  property." 

The  landlord  took  a  jump  and  a  look  and  saw  the  laths 
and  string.  He  ran  out  of  doors.  He  was  an  able-bodied 
man  with  a  large  voice,  and  he  outdid  his  merchant  neigh- 

227 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

bor  in  volume  of  cursing.  It  was  plain  that  he  was  well 
acquainted  with  the  mental  and  moral  qualities  of  Ike 
Dawlin. 

So  I  went  back  to  my  own  tavern.  Judge  Kingsley 
was  waiting  in  the  office,  and  the  landlord  was  talking  to 
the  old  man  with  considerable  affability. 

"I  was  telling  your  friend  here  that  we  aim  to  please] 
I  reckon  the  girl  can  fit  you  out  with  breakfast  now  if 
you're  minded  to  step  into  the  dining-room." 

"Thank  you — we'll  step  in,  sir.  By  the  way,  there 
seems  to  be  considerable  excitement  on  the  street,  Mr. 
Landlord.  Men  named  Dawlin  and  Pratt,  whoever  they 
may  be,  have  re-located  business  sites  occupied  by  the  big 
store  and  the  other  hotel.  I  just  noticed  that  the  same 
thing  has  been  done  to  you;  you'd  better  take  a  look  out- 
side." 

By  the  manner  in  which  the  owner  of  the  "Pallace" 
pounded  his  way  to  the  street  it  might  have  been  guessed 
that  the  consciences  of  the  pioneers  of  Royal  City  were 
not  wholly  clear  as  to  their  several  rights  of  property. 
But  the  manner  in  which  they  were  taking  the  re-locations 
showed  that  they  were  entirely  ready  to  fight  for  what 
they  had  squatted  on. 

"By  the  bald-headed  juductionary  of  Walla  Walla 
County,"  howled  the  "Pallace"  landlord,  "that  tin- 
horn Dragg  has  sneaked  out  of  my  house  in  the  night 
so  as  to  do  me  up,  has  he?" 

"Do  you  say  it's  Dragg?"  bawled  the  landlord  of  the 
"Imperial"  from  a  distance.  "It's  Dawlin,  up  here! 
He's  been  boozing  here  in  my  house  under  cover  for  a  week, 
but  he  wasn't  so  drunk,  so  it  seems,  but  he  could  dodge 
out  last  night  and  try  to  steal  my  property  away  from  me." 

Say,  I  swapped  one  very  large  look  with  Zebulon  Kings- 
ley,  who  stood  in  the  hotel  door,  staring  from  furious  land- 
lord to  furious  landlord.  The  old  man  had  heard  enough 
the  night  before  to  appreciate  the  value  of  that  informa- 
tion in  regard  to  Dawlin. 

228 


WHERE   YOUR  TREASURE   IS 

"It's  that  skunk  of  a  dressed-up  Pratt  in  my  case," 
shouted  the  owner  of  the  "Emporium"  from  farther  up 
the  street. 

"I  reckon  I  can  show  any  man  who  tries  to  steal  my 
property  that  I'm  mighty  wide  awake  mornings  if  I  do 
sleep  nights  when  honest  men  ought  to  be  in  bed,"  an- 
nounced the  proprietor  of  the  "Pallace."  He  rushed  into 
his  hotel,  and  clattered  up-stairs. 

"When  the  wheels  of  a  scheme  are  running  in  good 
shape  it's  best  to  stay  away  and  keep  your  fingers  out  of 
the  gearing,"  I  said  to  Kingsley.  "We'll  go  in  and  eat 
breakfast." 

While  we  ate,  loud  voices  sounded  through  the  thin 
walls.  Men  were  crowding  into  the  hotel  office.  Pro- 
fanity, denunciation,  denial,  went  on  and  on.  The  judge 
fingered  his  makeshift  mustache  uneasily  every  time  the 
bawling  of  Pratt  was  heard. 

"Better  keep  your  hands  off  that  and  drink  your  coffee 
from  your  spoon,"  I  suggested.  "They'll  never  know 
you!" 

When  we  were  ready  to  leave  the  dining-room  I  warned 
the  judge  not  to  look  at  Pratt.  We  could  hear  him  thun- 
dering away  in  the  office. 

Dragg  and  Pratt  were  surrounded  by  men;  the  land- 
lord of  the  "Pallace,"  the  proprietor  of  the  "Emporium," 
and  a  grim  man  with  a  huge  revolver  in  his  hand  and  a 
deputy  sheriff's  badge  on  his  breast  were  right  in  the 
front  row. 

"You  can  swear,  threaten,  and  deny  till  your  tongues 
drop  off — it  don't  go  for  a  minute  with  us,"  declared  the 
landlord,  "for  we  all  know  your  style  and  your  nerve. 
Because  you  have  got  away  with  a  lot  of  hold-ups  in  other 
places  it  doesn't  go  that  you  can  come  here  and  do  us 
in  Royal  City." 

"  Do  you  think  we'd  be  fools  enough  to  go  and  put  our 
names  on — "  began  Dragg,  but  he  was  promptly  inter- 
rupted by  the  landlord. 

229 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"Whose  names  would  you  put  on  if  you  were  trying  to 
steal  land  for  yourselves?  You  thought  we'd  rather  settle 
than  fight,  that's  what!  But  we're  going  to  fight." 

It  was  my  turn — and  my  chance. 

"Excuse  me,  gentlemen.  I'm  a  stranger  to  you  all — 
merely  a  passing  tourist.  But  I  feel  it's  my  duty  to  state 
that  I  heard  two  men  discussing  a  matter  of  re-locating 
land  last  evening.  They  were  in  the  next  room  to  mine 
in  this  hotel.  I  recognize  their  voices.  Those  are  the 
men."  I  pointed  to  Dragg  and  Pratt. 

The  deputy  poked  the  muzzle  of  his  gun  into  Dragg's 
face  to  make  him  stop  swearing.  "Shut  up!  Everybody 
can  see  that  this  is  a  real  gent,  and  if  he's  got  evidence 
we  want  to  hear  it." 

"The  evidence  isn't  much,"  I  said,  meekly,  "but  I 
distinctly  heard  them  say  that  they  could  clean  up  a  nice 
pile  of  money  by  a  re-location  scheme.  It  was  to  be 
bluff  to  a  large  extent.  If  that  information  is  worth  any- 
thing you're  welcome  to  it.  I  would  hate  to  see  the  pros- 
perity of  a  hustling  city  like  this  held  up  for  one  moment 
by  men  trying  to  bunco  honest  citizens." 

"You  listen  to  me,"  roared  Dragg.  "That  hellhound 
there  is  lying  like  a — " 

The  sheriff  slapped  him  across  the  mouth.  "There's 
no  real  gent  gets  insulted  by  you  in  Royal  City  while  I'm 
boss  of  law  and  order  here." 

Outdoors  was  a  noise  of  clanking  of  whiffietrees  and 
the  "ruckling"  of  wheels.  A  stage-coach,  mud-daubed 
from  tongue  to  roof-rail,  was  pulling  out  of  an  opposite 
stable-yard. 

"I've  got  to  take  that  stage,"  raved  Dragg.  "The 
whole  of  Royal  City  can't  stop  me.  I've  been  monkey- 
doodled  by  a  shark.  He's  trying  to  get  there  ahead  of 
me.  It  wouldn't  work  here.  I'm  no  fool.  I  knew  it 
wouldn't  work."  He  yelled  so  loudly  and  talked  so  rap- 
idly that  they  listened  to  him.  "My  scheme  was  for 
Breed — and  it  was  a  cinch!  He's  stealing  it  from  me — 

230 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

that  doggone,  lying  plug-hatter  found  out  that  I  was 
going  to  re-locate  claims  in — " 

"Seem  to  be  convicting  yourself  out  of  your  own 
mouth!"  broke  in  a  citizen. 

"I'm  going  to  Breed  by  this  stage.  I've  got  to  go!" 
gasped  Dragg,  twisting  his  throat  from  the  sheriff's  clutch. 

"You're  going  into  the  calaboose  right  now — and  Pratt 
is  going  there,  too,  and  Dawlin  is  going  as  soon  as  they 
get  his  clothes  on  him,"  declared  the  officer.  "Grab 
a-holt,  boys,  and  help  me  get  on  the  wristers." 

"You  men  will  stay  here — and  Dawlin,  too,  till  we  find 
out  what  you  mean  by  this  trick,"  said  my  landlord. 
"You  don't  get  out  of  here  to  run  away  and  file  your  lo- 
cation claims!" 

"  Send  a  man  to  the  county-seat,"  raged  Pratt.  "  Look 
at  the  records.  That  will  prove  that  we  haven't  tried  any- 
thing on  here." 

"We  don't  need  any  advice  from  you  chaps  as  to  what 
we  shall  do — whether  it's  holding  you  for  a  show-down  or 
shooting  you  out  of  this  place  when  we  have  your  num- 
bers." 

I  looked  at  Mr.  Pratt.  That  remark  started  my  think- 
works  into  action.  I  had  my  men  anchored,  to  be  sure, 
but  that  wasn't  getting  me  anything  in  the  money  line — 
and  without  doubt  Royal  City  would  cool  down  pretty 
quickly  and  send  the  men  kiting.  When  they  scooted 
they  would  go  by  rail,  of  course.  That  meant  difficulties, 
the  thought  of  which  had  already  discouraged  me.  I 
needed  to  keep  those  chaps  in  the  open — and  the  wilder 
the  open  the  better!  In  the  brush,  where  it  was  man  to 
man,  instead  of  in  the  city  where  law  was  safe  and  sane — 
and  almighty  slow !  I  needed  to  be  quick  and  crazy ! 

Mr.  Pratt  was  beginning  to  get  his  wits  back.  He  was 
bellowing  so  wildly  when  I  accused  him  and  Dragg  that 
he  did  not  seem  to  sense  the  situation.  He  turned  to  me. 

"Damn  your  lying  tongue!  What  do  you  mean  by 
putting  up  this  job  on  me?" 

10  231 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"I  have  simply  stated  what  I  overheard!" 

"  Heard  me  say  that  I  was  going  to  jump  claims?  Why, 
I  told  Dragg  I  wouldn't—" 

"You  told  Dragg  that  you  and  your  partner  came  down 
here  on  purpose  to  jump  claims!" 

He  was  so  mad  he  was  nigh  black  in  the  face.  "Do  I 
know  you?  Have  I  ever  done  dirt  to  you?" 

I  shook  my  head  and  looked  him  over  with  contempt. 

From  the  time  I  had  left  Levant  I  had  been  at  a  loss 
to  decide  what  front  I  would  put  on  when  I  met  up  with 
those  men  who  had  robbed  the  judge.  I  had  thought 
all  along  that  my  best  plan  would  be  to  build  on  my 
acquaintance  with  Jeff  Dawlin  and  use  his  tips  which  were 
to  put  me  next  to  the  parties  I  was  after.  Then  I  might 
be  able  to  come  up  on  their  blind  side — if  they  had 
one — and — 

Well,  right  there  I  had  stopped.    What  could  I  do? 

Then  I  had  been  hooked  by  that  infernal  Dragg!  In 
that  mess  with  him  I  had  allowed  chance  to  swing  me  and 
our  fortunes.  After  that  squabble  with  Dragg  I  could 
not  hope  to  make  much  of  a  hit  with  his  associates,  eh? 
Therefore,  I  was  jumping  for  the  other  extreme  and  I 
proposed  to  make  Mr.  Pratt  and  his  friends  just  as  ugly 
as  insults  and  injury  could  serve.  I  felt  like  a  boy  thumb- 
ing his  nose  at  angry  wildcats.  And  in  my  desperation 
I  hoped  that  the  wildcats  would  come  chasing  me.  Chas- 
ing me  where  ?  Why  not  to  Breed,  wherever  that  might  be  ? 

I  certainly  was  sure  of  Mr.  Dragg,  according  to  his 
threats  and  his  promises.  And  if  I  could  stick  a  few  more 
darts  into  the  broad  flanks  of  Mr.  Pratt  and  leave  them 
stinging  it  was  full  likely  that  Mr.  Dragg's  appeals  to 
that  gentleman  would  have  much  more  effect  than  they 
did  the  night  before. 

A  couple  of  citizens  came  dragging  in  another  prisoner, 
a  red-eyed  and  ferociously  angry  person,  and  I  knew  by 
Judge  Kingsley's  expression  that  the  round-up  was  com- 
plete. 

232 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"Who  says  I  did  it?    Who  says  I—" 

"I  say  so!"  I  told  him.  "You  held  me  up  and  you 
asked  me  to  buy  twine  and  pencil  for  you." 

"That's  right,"  stated  the  merchant.  "The  gent  is 
right." 

"  Of  course  it  looked  all  square  to  me,"  I  said.  "  I  never 
heard  how  claim- jumpers  worked!"  I  told  them.  "I  saw 
he  had  been  drinking  and  I  thought  the  string-and-pencil 
notion  was  only  his  bee  buzzing!" 

It  was  reckless  lying,  but  that  crowd  was  too  much 
excited  to  bother  with  mere  details. 

"Why,  you  mutt-jawed  smokestack,  you,  I  never  laid 
eyes  on  you  in  all  my  life!"  raged  Dawlin. 

"I  reckon  my  memory  is  a  little  better  than  yours,  for 
I  wasn't  drunk,"  I  reminded  him. 

The  sheriff  was  obliged  to  assign  two  more  men  to 
the  controlling  of  Mr.  Dawlin,  who  was  a  husky  chap. 
He  was  far  too  much  occupied  to  pay  any  attention 
to  the  judge,  who  stood  in  a  corner  and  goggled  at  me 
with  plain  and  sure  conviction  that  I  had  gone  stark, 
staring  crazy. 

"  I'll  bet  you  a  thousand  dollars,"  roared  Pratt,  "that — " 

"You're  a  cheap  tinhorn.  You  never  saw  a  thousand 
dollars." 

Mr.  Pratt  jumped  up  and  down  and  tried  to  throw  off 
the  clutch  of  the  men  who  were  holding  him. 

I  felt  perfectly  safe  in  that  crowd;  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  keep  prodding  till  I  was  sure  that  Mr.  Pratt  and  his 
friends  had  developed  enough  interest  in  me  so  that  they 
would  give  up  all  other  business  till  they  had  settled  their 
grudges. 

I  patted  my  breast  pocket.  "I  always  carry  ten  thou- 
sand dollars  around  with  me  just  to  keep  the  draughts 
off  my  chest.  I  find  money  better  than  a  folded  news- 
paper," I  told  him. 

I  had  been  keeping  my  eye  on  the  stage-coach  for  some 
few  minutes.  It  had  hauled  up  at  the  post-office.  The 

233 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

driver  came  out  with  mail-bags  and  tossed  them  into  the 
boot. 

"Landlord,  will  you  fetch  our  valises?"  I  asked. 

"Certainly,  sir!" 

"I've  got  a  few  thousand  in  my  own  pocket,"  yelled 
Pratt. 

"So  have  I!"  howled  Dawlin. 

"And  we'll  spend  it  getting  to  you,"  they  shouted  in 
chorus. 

"It  won't  cost  you  much  to  chase  me"  I  said,  pro- 
vokingly.  "Cheap  skates  of  your  sort  wouldn't  spend 
much  getting  to  a  man  you're  afraid  of." 

That  taunt,  in  the  ears  of  those  bystanders,  made  Pratt 
and  his  cronies  wild  in  earnest. 

"I'm  only  going  as  far  as  Breed,"  I  said.  "I've  got  to 
stay  there  for  some  time  on  business.  When  these  good 
folks  let  you  out  of  jail  suppose  you  run  over  and  call  on 
me!" 

"You  don't  dare  to  wait  there  for  us!"  said  Dawlin. 

"I'll  bet  you  five  thousand  I  do  dare!" 

They  didn't  take  me  up  on  that  bet.  Perhaps  I  seemed 
too  certain  that  I  meant  what  I  said.  I  intended  to  seem 
certain.  I  wanted  the  company  of  those  gentlemen  in 
Breed,  no  matter  what  the  risks  were.  And  I  was  mighty 
glad  when  Mr.  Pratt  and  Mr.  Dawlin  had  bragged  about 
the  thousands  they  had  in  their  pockets.  I  looked  into 
the  glittering  eyes  of  Pratt  and  I  knew  that  even  in  his 
fury  he  was  taking  much  comfort  in  his  belief  that  I  was 
giving  him  a  straight  tip  about  Breed. 

"You  don't  dare  to  hang  up  over  there  till  I  come," 
he  snarled,  testing  me  out. 

"  If  I  am  not  there,  I'll  hand  over  five  hundred  dollars 
to  start  a  city  reading-room  here,"  I  declared.  "I  call 
on  these  gentlemen  to  bear  witness." 

"I  hope  we  won't  get  the  reading-room,"  stated  the 
landlord,  standing  with  the  luggage,  "for  I  want  to  see 
a  few  fresh  galoots  get  theirs." 

234 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"It's  time  to  test  out  whether  respectable  business  men 
can  go  about  in  this  country  without  being  insulted  and 
bothered  by  rascals,"  I  observed.  "Come  over  to  Breed 
after  Royal  City  gets  done  with  you."  And  just  to  clinch 
the  thing  I  snapped  my  fingers  under  Pratt's  nose  when 
I  passed  him. 

I  just  naturally  knew,  that  moment,  that  Mr.  Pratt 
had  made  a  binding  appointment  with  me. 

The  landlord  had  hailed  the  stage,  which  was  surging 
past  through  the  mud.  I  was  obliged  to  push  the  judge 
to  start  him  toward  the  door;  he  seemed  to  be  in  a  daze. 

"But  we've  got  to  stay  here,"  he  croaked  in  my  ear. 
"They've  got  the  money  on  'em.  They  brag  about  it. 
You'll  never  lay  eyes  on  them  again!" 

I  hurried  him  along  the  plank  walk  toward  the  coach. 

"  Don't  fret  one  mite  about  that  part,  sir.  If  we  stay 
here  all  we  can  do  is  stand  outside  the  calaboose  and  ask 
'em  to  push  our  money  out  through  the  bars.  And  I'm 
afraid  they  are  not  feeling  generous  enough  just  now." 

"But  the  law  will  keep  them — " 

"No,  it  won't,  sir,  if  I'm  any  judge  of  the  sporting  blood 
out  here.  Royal  City  will  be  mighty  curious  to  find  out 
what  happens  when  Mr.  Pratt  and  his  friends  arrive  in 
Breed.  And  they'll  come!  Don't  worry!" 

But  the  judge  was  a  stubborn  old  customer!  He  kept 
holding  back. 

"Why  not  settle  it  with  'em  here?" 

"Because  I  have  always  read  that  when  a  good  general 
has  a  chance  to  do  it,  he  picks  his  own  battle-ground  and 
throws  up  his  earthworks  before  the  enemy  heaves  in 
sight.  I  have  picked  Breed,  sir!  As  to  the  earthworks,  I'll 
do  some  meditating  on  the  way." 

Already  my  handy  Mr.  Dragg  had  given  me  the  germ 
of  a  notion,  though,  of  course,  he  had  not  meant  to  make 
me  any  presents. 


XX 


nnHERE  were  four  or  five  passengers  inside  the  coach, 
1  and  I  boosted  the  judge  over  the  wheel  and  put  him 
in  there.  There  was  no  one  on  the  box  with  the  driver, 
and  that  was  not  surprising,  for  I  must  say  he  did  not 
have  any  coaxing  way  with  him:  he  had  his  fists  full  of 
muddy  reins  and  looked  down  on  me  with  his  mouth 
screwed  around.  I  asked  meekly  if  I  might  ride  up  there 
with  him. 

"  If  you  think  a  plug-hat  is  going  to  help  me  any  getting 
acrost  sixteen  miles  of  'dobe  clay,  climb  up !  But  do  one 
thing  or  t'other  damn  quick!" 

It  did  not  look  as  if  I  would  be  making  a  specially  prom- 
ising friend,  but  I  climbed  just  the  same. 

"Good  luck!"  said  the  landlord,  "and  I  hope  you'll 
take  it  all  right  from  us  if  we  let  'em  loose  after  we  have 
shaken  'em  down." 

"Send  'em  along,  sir.  One  at  a  time  or  the  lot  in  a 
bunch!" 

That  little  speech  suited  the  crowd;  I  got  a  lot  of  friend- 
ly hand-waves. 

A  few  rods  from  the  last  house  in  Royal  City  the  muddy 
street  swung  to  the  right  and  sort  of  sneaked  into  the 
river,  as  if  it  were  ashamed  and  wanted  to  wash  the  dirt 
»ff  itself.  There  was  no  bridge.  The  horses  plunged  into 
the  water  and  dragged  the  coach  across  the  stream, 
floundering  in  depths  that  barely  allowed  them  footing. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  river  the  road  whiplashed  in 
long  curves  up  the  canon's  wall  to  reach  the  level  of 

236 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

Callas  prairie;  I  should  say  it  was  all  of  a  thousand  feet 
above  the  stream. 

I  offered  to  the  driver  comments  on  the  weather,  on  the 
road :  I  offered  him  a  cigar.  I  had  stocked  up  with  smokes 
with  which  to  curry  favor.  The  driver  paid  no  attention 
to  the  comments  and  snarled  his  refusal  of  the  cigar. 
Even  with  six  horses  leaping  to  their  work  under  the 
lash,  our  crawl  up  the  muddy  slope  was  snail-like.  The 
wheelers  and  swing  team  got  the  whip,  and  the  driver 
heaved  curses  and  little  rocks  at  the  leaders.  He  had 
nearly  a  peck  of  pebbles  in  a  canvas  bag  at  his  side.  When 
we  were  over  the  rim-rock  at  last  and  upon  the  prairie, 
I  looked  for  more  speed.  But  no  such  luck !  The  straining 
horses,  half-way  to  their  knees  in  the  black  mud,  could 
barely  move  the  heavy  coach. 

After  a  time  the  driver  left  what  some  flatterers  might 
call  a  road  and  took  to  the  open  prairie,  zigzagging  here 
and  there  to  find  solid  ground.  Then  intersecting  gullies 
drove  him  back  into  the  rutted  road  again.  It  was  adobe 
mud — black  as  zip  and  as  sticky  as  cold  molasses.  Every 
little  while  the  driver  was  obliged  to  jump  down  from 
his  seat  and  poke  the  clotted  mud  out  between  the  spokes 
of  the  wheels.  Otherwise  the  coach  would  have  been 
anchored  in  spite  of  the  best  tussles  of  the  horses. 

*4I  should  think  they'd  have  to  give  up  trying  to  run 
a  stage  across  this  prairie  in  mud -time,"  I  ventured  to 
suggest  to  the  driver  when  he  came  climbing  back  to  his 
seat  after  a  long  assault  on  the  mud-clogged  wheels  with 
his  piece  of  joist. 

"The  mails  have  to  go,  but  the  damn  fools  that  I  haul 
don't  have  to,"  he  retorted,  sorting  his  reins  between 
his  muddy  fingers.  "If  you  ain't  satisfied  with  the  way 
I'm  running  this  thing,  mister,  you  can  tuck  yourself 
into  that  plug-hat  of  yours  and  roll  across  to  Breed  City. 
E-e-eyah!  Go  'long,  you  wall-eyed,  splint-legged  goats 
of  the  Bitter  Root,  you!" 

However,  I  was  thankful  I  was  on  the  outside;  the  sun 

237 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

warmed  me  and  the  warmth  was  grateful,  for  the  breeze 
was  chilly  on  that  upland.  I  could  see  snow  on  the  far- 
distant  peaks  to  the  south.  The  passengers  inside  the 
coach  were  plainly  far  from  feeling  any  thankfulness 
whatsoever.  They  groaned  and  growled  and  complained. 
I  glanced  down  over  the  side  during  one  stop  for  wheel- 
clearing,  and  found  myself  looking  into  the  face  of  Judge 
Kingsley,  who  had  stuck  his  head  out  of  the  window. 
His  false  mustache  gave  him  the  appearance  of  an  angry 
cat. 

"How  much  more  of  this  devilishness  have  we  got  to 
endure?"  he  demanded. 

"  That's  easy  figuring,  sir !  Sixteen  miles,  sixteen  hours ! 
It  must  be  the  regular  running  time  on  this  road." 

"I  don't  want  no  sarcasm  from  no  one,"  yelped  the 
driver,  straightening  up  and  shaking  his  joist.  "And  if 
any  gent  reckons  he  can  keep  passing  out  his  cheap  slurs 
on  this  trip  he'd  better  come  down  here  now  and  get  his 
card  entitling  him  to." 

I  kept  my  gaze  on  the  distant  mountains,  but  when  the 
driver  climbed  back  to  his  seat  and  kept  on  cussing  me 
out,  I  reckoned  we'd  better  have  a  little  understanding 
for  the  rest  of  the  trip.  I  closed  my  fingers  around  his 
arm.  It  was  only  a  pipe-stem  arm — and  his  eyes  were  of 
the  sad,  pale-blue  kind.  I  said  very  near  to  his  ear: 

"Your  breakfast  seems  to  be  hurting  you,  son!  The 
stage  company  pays  you  to  drive  and  to  be  respectful  to 
passengers.  Mind  your  tongue  after  this." 

I  was  trying  on  a  little  something.  I  have  found  that 
when  you  bluster  and  shout,  the  blusterer  usually  recog- 
nizes his  own  kind  and  blusters  back.  But  the  blowhard 
hasn't  any  weapon  when  a  man  fights  with  a  look  and  a 
quiet  word. 

"It's  the  mud.  It's  getting  on  to  my  nerves,"  whined 
the  man  after  he  had  driven  a  short  distance. 

"Have  a  smoke — it's  good  for  the  nerves,"  I  invited. 
The  driver's  hands  were  full  of  reins  and  whip  and  pebbles, 

238 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

so  I  set  the  end  of  a  cigar  to  the  drooping  mouth  and  the 
driver  bit  off  the  end.  Then  I  held  a  match  while  he 
sucked.  And  when  the  cigar  was  going  he  turned  an 
appreciative  grin  on  me. 

"A  fellow  can't  bluff  you  much,  can  he,  mister?"  he 
remarked.  "  I  didn't  have  you  sized  up  right  at  the  start- 
off,  I  reckon.  Why,  /  couldn't  lick  a  prairie-dog  with  a 
hammer.  But  I  bluff  out  most  of  the  dudes  who  travel 
with  me.  I  get  a  lot  of  innocent  enjoyment  that 
way.  It  helps  pass  the  time  for  me  on  this  jodiggered 
trip." 

Out  of  his  cocoon  of  grouchiness  he  broke  as  a  real  but- 
terfly of  chatter.  I  got  a  lot  of  good  stuff  from  him,  for 
I  learned  the  name  of  the  mayor  of  Breed  City  and  what 
sort  of  a  man  he  was — a  dry-goods  merchant  who  took 
his  job  seriously  and  hollered  about  the  development  of 
the  new  place  and  loved  those  who  said  a  good  word  for 
the  municipality. 

I  also  learned  that  many  miners  and  prospectors  from 
the  Buffalo  Hump  region  were  mudbound,  on  their  annual 
spree,  in  Breed — the  nearest  town  where  they  could  find 
all  the  rum  and  roulette  they  demanded.  The  driver 
stated  that  one  or  two  of  his  friends  who  had  a  little  spare 
cash  for  speculation  made  it  a  practice  to  loaf  around 
the  gambling-places  and  buy  in  from  busted  players  any 
mining  shares  that  a  man  wanted  to  realize  on  in  a  hurry. 
Most  of  these  shares  thus  offered  for  sale  were  shares  in 
undeveloped  prospects,  the  driver  explained,  but  one  could 
never  tell  when  a  share  bought  for  a  cent  would  be  worth 
a  hundred.  That  driver  certainly  liked  the  sound  of  his 
voice  when  he  got  started!  He  offered  the  confidential 
tip  that  the  Blacksnake  Gully  region  would  develop  into 
the  howler  of  the  season.  It  wasn't  being  talked  of  much. 
Nothing  real  definite  was  known  outside.  He  guessed 
they  hadn't  opened  up  anything  to  prove  the  hunch  some 
folks  had — but  mining  is  like  betting  on  the  races.  A 
tip  floats  in  from  somewhere — if  a  hunch  goes  with  it, 

239 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

play  it,  that  was  his  motto.  He  had  been  able  to  pick 
up  a  few  loose  shares. 

The  mine  in  which  he  was  most  interested  had  been 
located  for  a  long  time.  Shares  had  been  out  for  some 
years,  scattered  around.  He  couldn't  tell  for  sure  who 
had  started  the  new  stories,  but  he  did  know  that  a 
friend  of  his — an  humble  friend  called  "Dirty-shirt" 
Maddox — was  up  in  this  section,  nosing  around,  and  he 
reckoned  he'd  get  some  inside  information  when  "Dirty- 
shirt"  returned  to  Breed. 

Of  course  I  wasn't  surprised.  My  idea  of  the  West 
was  a  place  where  every  man  was  trying  to  unload  mining 
stock  on  an  Eastern  sucker. 

"The  particular  claim  in  the  Blacksnake  that  I'm 
speaking  of  is '  Her  Two  Bright  Eyes,' "  stated  the  gossiper. 
"Mebbe  that  name  is  a  hunch  that  it's  worth  looking 
into,"  he  added,  with  a  cackle  to  point  his  little  joke. 

I  thought  of  a  couple  of  bright  eyes,  and  felt  homesick 
when  the  driver  drawled  the  name  of  the  mine. 

"Two  bright  eyes  are  always  worth  looking  into,"  said  I. 

That  was  some  ride! 

The  stage  wallowed  into  Breed  City  about  nightfall. 
It  had  tipped  over  twice  on  the  way,  its  wheels  sinking 
into  "honey-pots"  of  mud,  rolling  over  slowly  like  a 
tired  cow  lying  down  to  rest.  We  swearing  passengers 
had  been  compelled  to  pry  it  up  with  poles  borrowed  from 
a  rancher.  During  these  waits  and  during  the  meal  at 
a  sort  of  half-way  house,  Judge  Kingsley,  mud-spattered, 
scared  into  conniptions  when  he  thought  of  what  would 
be  coming  behind  us  from  Royal  City,  miserable  as  a  wet 
cat,  and  seeing  nothing  ahead  for  consolation,  muttered 
to  me  constantly  his  familiar  taunt  that  he  was  being 
teamed  about  the  country  by  a  lunatic. 

I  didn't  know  exactly  what  to  say,  and  made  him  still 
angrier  by  confessing  that  he  was  undoubtedly  correct. 

We  left  the  coach  in  front  of  the  hotel  that  the  driver 
had  recommended,  and  we  stepped  from  the  board  side- 

240 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

walk  like  passengers  disembarking  from  a  boat;  the  mud 
in  the  street  was  fairly  a  river  of  mire. 

"Even  if  you  don't  like  the  'Prairie  Pride'  very  well," 
my  new  friend  had  said,  "  you'll  have  a  lot  of  fun  watching 
the  White  Ghost  operate.  There's  only  one  of  his  kind 
in  these  parts,  or  anywhere  else  in  the  world,  so  fur's  I 
know.  Folks  come  from  a  long  ways  off  and  stand  around 
the  windows  and  doors  of  the  'Prairie  Pride*  hotel  and 
see  the  White  Ghost  perform.  Oh  no,  I  don't  mean  that 
the  house  is  haunted.  The  White  Ghost  is  the  waiter. 
He's  the  only  waiter  they  have  in  the  dining-room.  He 
won't  have  anybody  else  there.  He  prides  himself  on 
doing  it  all  alone.  Says  he  is  the  only  waiter  in  the 
world  who  can  handle  fifty  guests  and  four  Chinese  cooks 
single-handed  and  keep  everybody  happy  and  busy  eating. 
He's  a  little  cracked  in  the  head,  but  he's  sure  a  wonder 
on  his  feet.  A  streak  of  white  lightning  would  have 
to  whistle  for  him  to  turn  around  and  come  back  and 
meet  it." 

Now  this  bit  of  information,  when  I  listened  to  it, 
stirred  in  me  merely  a  half -determination  to  go  to  another 
hotel,  where  the  waiter  did  not  give  a  show  along  with  his 
services. 

How  often  does  man  slight  some  odd  tools  that  Fate 
lays  in  his  way,  especially  when  Fate  doesn't  draw  his 
attention  to  them! 

The  "Prairie  Pride"  hotel  deserved  its  name  in  some 
measure.  It  had  smooth  floors,  real  doors,  and  walls  of 
plaster.  Its  big  office  thronged  with  guests,  whose  char- 
acter was  plain  enough.  There  were  slick  drummers  and 
bearded  and  booted  miners  fresh  from  the  hills,  down  for  a 
bit  of  a  spring  whirl,  and  there  were  mining  engineers  and 
such  like. 

We  were  given  a  room  and  at  the  same  time  we  were 
given  a  hint  that  we'd  better  hurry  to  supper  before  the 
hungry  mob  cleaned  up  all  the  best  dishes.  Again  my 
clothes  coaxed  this  courtesy! 

241 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"Cross  the  big  dining-room  and  go  into  the  alcove," 
directed  the  clerk,  after  a  glance  at  my  hat.  "The  alcove 
is  for  gents.  We  herd  the  others  in  the  big  room." 

I  crossed  this  main  hall  a  few  steps  in  advance  of  Judge 
Kingsley.  Men  were  crowded  at  the  tables  gobbling  food. 
No  fancy  feeding !  Men  jabbed  knives  into  their  mouths 
and  grabbed  stuff  off  plates  and  smacked  their  lips  and 
suffled  and  grunted.  I  stopped  in  the  alleyway  between 
these  tables  to  look  about.  I  heard  a  yell  of  warning  and 
dodged  just  in  time  to  escape. 

Double  swinging  doors  with  spring  hinges  were  burst 
open  by  the  impact  of  a  foot  that  must  have  been  swung 
waist  high  for  the  kick.  Out  into  the  dining-room  shot 
the  individual  who  had  kicked. 

It  was  an  apparition ! 

He  was  more  than  six  feet  tall  and  as  slim  as  a  bean- 
pole. He  wore  a  white  cap,  a  white  jacket,  a  white  apron 
shrouded  him  to  his  heels,  and  he  wore  white  shoes.  He 
had  a  white,  peaked  face  and  his  hair  was  tow-colored. 
On  a  huge  tray  that  he  held  well  above  his  head  dishes 
were  heaped  high.  He  went  past  me  and  down  the  alley- 
way on  the  dead  run,  and  wisps  of  steam  from  his  load 
followed  after,  trailing  on  the  air. 

"You  want  to  keep  out  of  the  road  in  this  dining-room 
when  the  White  Ghost  is  on  the  rampage,"  advised  a  guest 
at  the  table  in  the  alcove  where  we  took  seats.  "He's 
going  to  get  somebody  some  day  fine  and  plenty.  A  few 
months  ago  he  got  old  Babb  Coan,  who  was  down  here  on 
crutches,  nursing  a  broken  leg,  and  couldn't  get  out  of 
the  way  in  season.  But  the  White  Ghost  was  loaded  with 
empty  dishes — just  empties.  Some  day  he's  going  to  con- 
nect when  he's  loaded  with  about  seventeen  hot  dinners." 

The  next  moment  a  white  streak  came  into  the  alcove, 
took  half  a  dozen  orders  and  darted  back  into  the  kitchen 
with  a  tray-load  of  empty  dishes. 

"It  advertises  the  hotel,"  explained  the  talkative 
guest.  "  Men  come  here  from  far  and  near  to  see  the  White 

242 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

Ghost  razoo  up  and  down  the  stretch,  but  for  me  I'd 
rather  have  more  waiters  and  less  slamming.  It  keeps  me 
nervous,  and  when  I'm  nervous  I  can't  do  justice  to  my 
vittles.  I'm  all  the  time  expecting  to  see  that  man  that's 
doomed  to  get  his  get  it.  It  '11  be  a  mighty  mushy  affair." 

By  this  time  the  White  Ghost  was  back  and  was  scaling 
loaded  dishes  about  the  table  with  a  deftness  that  a  quick 
dealer  shows  in  a  poker  game. 

And  I,  still  blind  to  what  Fate  was  preparing  for  my 
side  of  the  case,  was  merely  irritated  by  this  tophet-te- 
larrup! 

When  supper  was  over  we  seized  an  opportunity  when 
the  White  Ghost  was  on  an  outward  trip  and  escaped. 

I  advised  the  judge  that  he'd  better  take  the  key  and 
go  to  our  room  and  get  into  bed,  and  the  old  man  accepted 
that  advice  with  a  sigh  of  thankfulness.  He  looked  bent, 
weary,  and  broken  as  he  climbed  the  stairs;  homesick 
hopelessness  showed  in  every  line  of  his  face  and  in  every 
motion  of  his  body.  I  did  pity  him  then ! 

"Poor  old  father  of  the  girl  with  the  two  bright  eyes," 
I  said,  not  realizing  that  I  had  spoken  aloud. 

A  man  sidled  up  and  prodded  me  with  his  thumb. 

"I  heard  what  you  said  to  the  old  gent  just  now! 
Where  did  you  get  your  tip,  pard?"  he  whispered. 

I  had  already  forgotten  just  what  the  driver  had  said. 

"You  needn't  let  it  out  if  you  don't  want  to.  But  there's 
a  little  inside  guessing  in  these  parts  and  when  you  hear 
a  man  let  drop  anything  about  the  'Two  Bright  Eyes,' 
it's  reckoned  he  has  had  a  hunch  of  some  kind." 

"I  wasn't  thinking  about  that  mine!" 

The  man  grinned. 

"That's  right — keep  it  sly!  But  see  here,  pard,  I'm 
going  to  test  you  out  a  little  on  this  thing.  I've  got  a 
few  thousand  shares  of  the  old  stock.  Took  it  over  in  a 
poker  game  a  long  time  ago — we  gamble  mining  stocks 
out  this  way  when  we're  busted.  I'm  busted  now — and 
they  won't  take  mining  stock  at  the  roulette  wheel.  I'll 

243 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

sell  you  five  hundred  shares  of  'Bright  Eyes'  at  fifty  cents 
a  share." 

He  peered  anxiously  into  my  face  as  he  made  the  offer. 
He  was  plainly  trying  to  get  a  hint  from  my  expression, 
but  he  didn't,  of  course.  I  knew  nothing  about  mining 
stock. 

"I  don't  want  it." 

"Twenty-five  cents  a  share,  then.  I  want  to  chase  the 
wheel." 

"You're  on  a  wrong  lead,  my  friend." 

Just  then  a  man  bumped  against  me  as  if  by  accident 
and  promptly  apologized.  It  was  the  stage-driver. 

The  owner  of  the  stock  scowled  and  backed  into  the 
crowd  in  the  office. 

"I  was  trying  to  jolt  a  little  hoss  sense  into  you,"  ex- 
plained the  driver.  "Why  didn't  you  buy  that  stock? 
I  passed  the  hunch  to  you  to-day." 

"I  haven't  any  money  for  wildcatting  in  gold-mines," 
I  said. 

The  man  came  close  to  me  and  spoke  low. 

"Don't  you  remember  what  I  said?" 

"Yes,  but  grabbing  gold-mine  stock  from  the  first 
comer — say,  my  friend,  do  I  look  as  green  as  that?" 

"Hish!  Don't  rear  up,  sir!  Please  don't!  But  I  know 
that  fellow  who  just  tried  to  sell.  He's  fresh  in  from  the 
hills.  He  doesn't  know  what's  going  on — and  only  a  few 
do  know.  But  I  carry  men  on  my  stage  who  talk  and 
don't  know  I'm  overhearing.  I  say  no  more!  But  I 
hope  you'll  take  the  hint.  If  I  could  rake  and  scrape 
another  dollar  I'd  buy  that  stock  myself.  That  fellow 
has  some  kind  of  a  hunch — but  he  has  been  too  far  away 
in  the  hills  to  know  anything  special.  I  guess  he  just 
smells  it  in  the  air.  There  isn't  much  stock  in  'Bright 
Eyes'  left  loose  these  days.  I  have  smelt  around;  I 
know!  That  tells  a  long  story,  sir.  If  that  fellow 
hadn't  been  off  in  the  hills  they'd  have  got  his  away 
from  him!" 

244 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

He  was  urgent  and  appealing.  I  couldn't  understand 
this  special  interest  in  me  and  I  told  him  so  plainly. 

"I  don't  exactly  know,  either,"  he  said,  unabashed. 
"I'm  thinking  it  over  and  I'll  tell  you  when  I  get  it 
thought  out.  Maybe  it's  your  style.  I  have  always 
hoped  to  be  able  to  wear  a  suit  of  clothes  like  that." 

He  surveyed  me  with  candid  admiration. 

My  tartness  didn't  bother  him  a  bit.  He  beamed  on 
me — and  plainly  had  taken  a  few  drinks.  I  asked  the 
driver  to  tell  me  how  I  could  reach  the  mayor's  store. 
My  friend  offered  to  conduct  me.  I  had  resolved  to  throw 
up  my  Breed  City  earthworks! 

"When  I  take  a  liking  to  a  gent  I  don't  do  nothing  by 
halves,"  declared  my  guide  when  we  were  on  our  way. 
"You  come  unwrapped  enough  to-day  so  that  I  could  see 
that  you've  got  real  whalebone  in  your  stock  and  silk 
in  your  snapper — and  that's  the  kind  of  a  whip  for  my 
hand!  You  come  along  with  me  and  I'll  introduce  you  to 
the  mayor.  Him  and  me  are  chums.  He  ain't  none  of 
your  stuck-up  dudes.  I'll  tell  him  you're  a  special  friend 
of  mine.  There's  nothing  like  getting  in  right." 

He  left  me  in  the  back  office  of  a  dry-goods  store, 
sitting  knees  to  knees  in  the  tiny  room  with  a  fat  and 
placid  man  who  smiled  amiably  and  seemed  to  be  im- 
pressed by  my  dress  and  demeanor. 

He  launched  out  at  me  in  a  way  that  was  surely  as- 
tonishing. 

"You  are  the  kind  we  like  to  see  coming  into  our  new 
and  growing  city.  We  are  anxious  for  a  touch  of  the 
dignity  and  refinement  of  the  East  here  in  our  midst. 
We  hope  we  can  offer  you  inducements  which  will  wean 
you  from  that  East  which,  though  its  traditions  are 
glorious  and  its  civilization  is  sublime,  is  nevertheless  a 
bit — I  may  say,  without  offense,  I  trust — effete  "  By 
the  way  in  which  Mayor  David  Ware  smacked  his  lips 
over  that  sentence  I  was  pretty  sure  that  he  was  quoting 
from  his  inaugural  address. 

245 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

"I'm  very  glad  to  have  you  feel  that  way  toward  me, 
coming  here  a  stranger,  Mr.  Mayor." 

"But  strangers  are  certified  to  a  man  of  insight  by  the 
masonry  of  breeding." 

I  thanked  him  again  and  proceeded  to  a  matter  of  busi- 
ness connected  with  my  earthworks. 

I  told  him  of  the  plans  of  one  Dragg,  as  I  had  gleaned 
them  from  accidental  association  with  that  individual. 
I  said  that  Dragg  had  now  attached  to  himself  two  black- 
legs and  undoubtedly  would  soon  arrive  in  Breed  City 
for  the  purpose  of  taking  advantage  of  technicalities  in 
the  land  law,  jumping  claims,  holding  up  enterprises, 
giving  Breed  City  a  black  eye  outside  as  a  municipality 
where  titles  were  not  assured. 

"I  am  not  a  spy,  a  tattletale,  or  a  meddler,"  I  said. 
"But  this  matter  was  forced  on  my  attention  when  I 
was  on  my  way  here,  and  I  did  not  want  to  see  a  hustling 
mayor  and  city  set  back  by  the  schemes  of  blacklegs.  I 
had  heard  of  your  city  and  of  you,  and  I  said  to  myself, 
'If  warning  will  enable  such  a  city  to  head  off  a  plot  and 
put  the  plotters  where  they  belong  I'll  hurry  to  head- 
quarters with  my  information.'  Those  men  are  now  in 
Royal  City  and  are  on  their  way  here." 

The  mayor's  mild  eyes  bulged  and  his  face  showed  his 
dismay. 

"It's  plain  you  are  a  friend  who  wouldn't  take  advan- 
tage of  our  situation,  sir.  That's  shown  because  you  are 
not  trying  to  operate  on  the  tip  this  crook  gave  you.  So 
I'm  going  to  be  frank  with  you,  as  a  friend.  We  were 
so  anxious  to  get  things  moving  here  that  we  took  a  lot  for 
granted  in  the  matter  of  land  titles  Those  men  can 
make  trouble — or  at  least  they  could  have  made  trouble 
if  we  had  not  been  warned  in  season  by  you.  You  will 
find  that  this  city  can  be  grateful,  Mr.  Mann." 

I  was  sticking  to  my  assumed  name. 

"Will  you  allow  me  to  make  a  suggestion?" 

"I  certainly  will.    I'll  be  glad  to  have  your  advice." 

246 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"Don't  undertake  to  jump  on  them,  officially,  the 
moment  they  strike  town.  In  order  to  have  your  proof 
you  must  wait  until  they  try  to  operate.  Have  them 
watched  sharply.  If  you'll  give  me  permission  to  take 
a  hand  in  the  matter,  on  the  side,  I  may  be  able  to  bluff 
them  out  entirely.  I  reckon  it's  for  the  interests  of  your 
city  to  close  the  thing  up  without  the  public  knowing 
there's  any  doubt  about  land  titles.  Of  course  I  don't 
need  to  suggest  to  you  that  you  make  a  flying  start  now 
and  straighten  out  your  law  and  titles  so  that  no  other 
shysters  can  come  along  making  trouble  after  we  get  rid 
of  these  gentlemen." 

"Watch  me  in  that  line,"  declared  the  mayor,  thumping 
his  breast.  "You're  right  about  handling  them  with 
gloves,  Mr.  Mann.  I  tell  you  if  you  can  do  anything  to 
help  us  you  will  stand  mighty  high  with  me  and  with  Breed 
City." 

"In  handling  them  I  may  be  able  to  make  it  seem  like 
a  personal  quarrel  between  them  and  myself,"  I  sug- 
gested. My  horizon  was  growing  wider  all  the  time. 
"They  are  dangerous  men,  but  I'm  not  afraid  of  them." 

"But  I  don't  want  you  to  be  a  martyr." 

"  I'm  not  afraid  of  them,  I  say.  If  trouble  does  happen 
here  and  it  seems  like  a  personal  quarrel,  you  will  under- 
stand it  all,  Mr.  Mayor!" 

"Certainly,  sir!" 

"It  may  seem  strange  to  have  a  stranger  come  along 
like  this  and  offer  to  meddle  in  matters  where  he  has  no 
personal  interest.  Those  men  are  nothing  to  me,  one 
way  or  the  other.  But  I'm  for  fair  play  always!" 

His  Honor  warmed  to  this  modest  candor. 

"The  city  is  behind  you  in  whatever  you  may  do  in 
this  thing,  sir.  As  mayor  I  say  it.  You'll  be  backed  to 
the  limit.  And  if  you  get  hurt  while  you  are  trying  to  do 
a  bit  of  a  trick  for  us  I'll  be  scissored  if  I  don't  toss  law 
and  order  up  for  a  little  while  and  organize  a  lynching 
party  and  head  it  in  person." 

17  247 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"If  I  thought  it  would  come  to  that  I  wouldn't  meddle 
in  the  affair!  The  only  reason  I  am  offering  my  services 
is  because  I  hope  to  be  able  to  keep  Breed  City  from  suffer- 
ing a  setback." 

"Hand  'em  any  jolt  that's  coming  to  'em  in  the  name 
of  Breed  City  and  its  mayor."  His  Honor  clapped  his 
hand  on  my  shoulder. 

I  trudged  back  to  the  hotel  in  a  fairly  comfortable 
frame  of  mind.  It's  a  lucky  general  who  can  choose  his 
own  battle-field,  get  to  it  well  ahead  of  the  enemy,  throw 
up  earthworks  and  set  a  big  gun  or  two  in  position.  So, 
I  said  to  myself,  "Let  'em  come!" 


XXI 

THE   SKIRMISH-LINE 

I  WAS  a  bit  embarrassed  next  morning  and  wondered  if 
I  hadn't  overdone  the  thing. 

I  was  waited  on  by  a  delegation  in  the  crowded  office 
of  the  Pride  of  the  Prairie.  Mayor  David  Ware  headed 
the  delegation  and  he  introduced  the  half-dozen  amiable 
gentlemen  as  leading  members  of  the  Breed  City  Chamber 
of  Commerce.  Then  the  mayor  pulled  me  aside. 

"You  understand  that  I  haven't  whispered  a  word  of 
what  you  and  I  talked  about  last  night.  That's  to  be 
buried  between  you  and  me,  but  there's  nothing  like 
getting  in  sneck  with  the  big  boys  of  this  town.  It  '11 
be  easier  for  me  when  I  have  to  back  you  up — if  it  comes 
to  that.  I've  explained  that  you're  a  friend  of  mine  who 
is  West  looking  for  prospects." 

"  I'm  glad  to  be  called  a  friend  of  yours — and  you  told 
the  truth  about  my  business  here,  Mr  Mayor.  We  start 
on  a  square  basis." 

With  the  mayor,  followed  by  the  delegation,  I  was 
escorted  through  the  main  street  of  Breed  City  It 
seemed  to  afford  the  gentlemen  honest  gratification  to 
follow  along  behind  that  plug-hat  which  I  had  freshly 
slicked  that  morning  to  the  best  of  my  ability.  I  was 
lunched  at  the  Chamber  of  Commerce — a  half-finished 
board  structure;  I  was  dined  by  the  mayor  at  his  own 
home;  and  I  returned  to  the  hotel  in  the  evening  to  find  the 
judge  marooned  in  the  office. 

"Please  don't  scowl  at  me  that  way,"  I  pleaded, 
249 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

humbly.  "I  was  afraid  you  might  drop  something  that 
would  queer  the  whole  proposition.  You  are  looking  over 
your  shoulder  as  if  you  expected  damnation  to  jump  on  to 
your  back!" 

"  Damnation  is  getting  ready  to  jump  on  to  our  backs," 
growled  the  old  man.  "One  of  'em  has  got  here.  He 
came  in  on  the  stage  to-night." 

"Which  one?" 

"The  scalawag  with  the  flashy  clothes." 

I  had  looked  for  pretty  quick  action,  but  "Peacock" 
Pratt  had  got  away  sooner  than  I  expected  he  would.  He 
had  been  free  with  his  money,  I  concluded. 

I  got  down-stairs  early  the  next  morning,  the  judge 
tagging  at  my  heels.  But  we  were  not  ahead  of  Mr. 
Pratt.  I  didn't  have  to  hunt  for  him.  He  stood  out  like 
Jeff  Dawlin's  "Peruvian  cockatoo"  would  have  shown 
up  in  a  flock  of  crows.  He  followed  us  into  the  dining- 
room,  and  sat  down  at  the  same  table  and  scowled  at  me 
with  ugly  fire  in  his  little  eyes  above  their  pouches  of  flesh. 
Then  he  leaned  across  the  table.  We  three  were  alone  when 
the  White  Ghost  had  frisked  away  after  our  breakfasts. 

"I'm  here,"  said  he. 

"Glad  to  see  you,"  said  I. 

"You're  a  dog-eyed  liar!  You  didn't  expect  to  see  me. 
You  thought  you  had  the  three  of  us  canned  till  you  could 
put  something  across  here.  It  cost  me  a  hundred  dol- 
lars to  grease  the  lock  of  that  calaboose — and  at  that  I 
couldn't  bring  out  the  other  two.  But  they're  coming ! 
You  needn't  worry  any  about  that  part,  you  punk-faced 
Piute!" 

He  dove  a  pudgy  hand  down  into  the  breast  pocket  of 
his  vest.  He  got  his  wallet  out  and  banged  it  down  on 
the  table.  It  was  a  big  wallet  and  it  was  well  stuffed. 
Judge  Kingsley  gulped  when  he  saw  it  and  his  hands 
worked  like  claws. 

"That's  how  I'm  heeled,  and  I'll  spend  it  getting  you, 
if  it  comes  to  that." 

250 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

He  packed  the  big  wallet  back  into  his  waistcoat, 
galloped  down  his  eggs  and  bacon,  and  then  banged  away 
from  the  table.  He  called  back  over  his  shoulder,  "I 
wish  I  hadn't  promised  that  I'd  anchor  you  and  wait  for 
'em,  else  I'd  take  you  now  and  settle  my  breakfast  with 
you." 

"  Did  you  see  that  money?"  gasped  the  old  man.  "  It's 
my  money,  There's  a  lot  of  it.  My  God!  I  could  hardly 
keep  my  hands  off  it." 

"  It  was  a  nice,  fat  wallet,  Judge  Kingsley.  I  was  glad 
to  see  it.  It  all  looks  very  encouraging." 

"Encouraging!  Where  do  you  see  any  encouragement? 
Two  more  men  coming  full  of  blood  and  thunder  to  join 
him — and  you  waiting  here  for  them  to  get  along!  Any- 
body with  sense  would  have  that  man  grabbed  by  the 
police  on  my  charges.  I  thought  you  told  me  you  were 
bringing  me  out  here  to  make  the  complaint?  Now  you're 
only  dillydallying.  A  man  with  sense,  I  say — " 

"Oh,  I  suppose  a  man  with  sense  would  never  have 
come  out  here,  at  all." 

When  I  went  out  and  stood  on  the  hotel  porch,  my 
friend,  the  stage-driver,  lounged  up. 

"I've  knocked  off  for  a  few  days'  vacation,"  he  ex- 
plained, sociably.  ' '  Sent  another  man  for  my  trip  to  Royal 
City  yesterday.  Mud  was  getting  on  to  my  nerves.  You 
noticed  how  it  was  the  day  you  rode  out  with  me.  I  came 
nigh  queering  myself  with  you  and  spoiling  one  of  the 
pleasantest  friendships  I  ever  made.  I  was  mighty  glad 
to  see  the  may»r  and  the  boys  taking  you  around  town 
yesterday." 

I  told  him  I  appreciated  his  regard. 

"There's  another  reason  why  I'm  taking  a  few  days 
off,"  he  confided.  "I've  got  a  hunch  that  'Dirty-shirt' 
Maddox  is  about  due  here.  And  in  the  case  of  'Dirty- 
shirt*  Maddox  it's  needful  to  be  Johnny-on-the-spot 
when  he  hits  town  if  I'm  going  to  cash  in  on  that  grub- 
stake I  advanced  to  him." 

251 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  handed  him  a  cigar  and  he  explained  further. 

"If  I  ain't  here  to  clap  a  hand  over  his  mouth  to  keep 
the  rum  out  and  the  news  in,  he'll  get  four  slugs  of  lan- 
guage-loosener into  him  inside  of  four  minutes  after 
striking  the  first  board-walk  here  and  then  it's  brakes  off, 
all  into  a  gallop  and  hell-bent  up  the  rise  for  that  'Bright 
Eyes'  stock." 

At  a  little  distance  the  styb'sh  Mr.  Pratt  paced  his 
way  to  and  fro  on  the  porch,  scowling. 

"  Please  take  a  good  look  at  that  fellow,"  said  I. 

"I'll  do  the  best  I  can  without  smoked  glasses,"  prom- 
ised the  stage-driver.  "I've  seen  him  before — and  I 
never  liked  his  style." 

"His  name  is  Pratt,"  I  said  loud  enough  to  be  heard 
by  that  gentleman.  "He  seems  to  hold  some  kind  of  a 
grudge  against  me  and  is  following  me." 

Mr.  Pratt  let  loose  a  torrent  of  cuss  words  that  were 
fully  as  highly  colored  as  his  rig-out.  He  wound  up  by 
saying,  "And,  by  the  gods!  I'll  get  you,  and  get  you 
fine  and  plenty!" 

"Will  you  remember  that?"  I  asked  the  stage-driver. 

I  realized  that  I  had  pretty  good  control  of  the  move- 
ments of  Mr.  Pratt.  For  where  I  did  go  there  went 
Pratt  also.  Mr.  Pratt  was  decidedly  on  his  job.  Personal 
hatred  moved  him  and  he  felt  responsible,  I  suppose,  for 
the  interests  of  the  two  who  were  frothing  behind  the 
bars  of  the  calaboose  in  Royal  City.  He  seemed  to  be 
guarding  me  as  a  morsel  for  a  feast  of  revenge  at  which 
three  proposed  to  sit  down.  He  stuck  to  me  so  closely 
that  my  big  idea  became  firm  enough  to  handle.  The 
ability  to  move  Pratt,  and  to  be  near  Pratt  at  all  times  by 
Pratt's  own  wish,  suggested  my  scheme  to  me. 

When  the  noon  hour  was  at  hand  I  led  the  way  back 
to  the  hotel,  and,  while  I  tidied  myself  for  dinner,  taking 
my  turn  at  the  mirror  in  the  wash-room,  I  had  an  eye  for 
the  manceuvers  of  Pratt,  who  was  preening  and  pluming 
himself,  whisking  all  the  stains  of  outdoors  from  his 

252 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

clothing,  settling  his  gorgeous  tie,  smoothing  his  waistcoat 
across  his  expansive  front. 

I  couldn't  help  it — I  grinned  in  his  face  when  I  thought 
of  my  plan. 

I  buttoned  my  frock-coat  carefully  and  started  for  the 
dining-room — and  Pratt  followed  close.  On  the  threshold 
I  cast  a  look  within.  The  White  Ghost  was  not  there — 
he  was  in  eclipse  in  the  kitchen  for  the  moment.  I 
started  through  the  big  hall,  toward  the  alcove,  crossing 
near  the  swing  doors.  Pratt  came  on  behind  me  and  I 
halted  and  turned  suddenly  on  him. 

"I'm  going  to  shoot  you  now  and  here  in  your  tracks, 
where  every  one  can  look  on,"  I  told  him  in  a  whisper — 
and  I  kept  smiling.  "Don't  you  dare  to  pull  a  gun. 
I've  got  you  covered.  I've  got  a  revolver  in  that  hand 
that's  wrapped  in  the  tail  of  this  coat  and  it's  aimed  at 
you.  I'm  going  to  shoot  you  while  I'm  smiling.  There 
are  men  looking  at  me.  I'll  say  that  the  gun  went  off  by 
accident.  It  '11  be  believed,  because  we  look  so  sociable. 
Hold  on!  Don't  you  open  that  mouth  to  yell.  You've 
got  one  chance  for  your  life.  I'll  tell  you  now — because 
I'll  never  have  a  better  chance  to  get  you  proper  if  you 
don't  take  that  chance  I  offer." 

I  was  stalling  then,  for  I  had  not  intended  to  talk  so 
long.  Mr.  Pratt  stood  there  as  stiff  as  a  wooden  man. 

He  took  a  peep  at  my  hand  that  was  muffled  in  the 
skirt  of  my  frock-coat.  The  unseen  terrifies  most.  His 
face  grew  pale.  He  continued  to  stare  at  the  hidden  thing 
that  threatened  his  life.  My  smile  broadened — it  was 
no  assumed  smile — for  my  wrapped  hand  was  empty. 

"You  may  think  that  this  is  a  queer  place  for  me  to 
hold  you  up  " 

If  Pratt  could  have  known  what  was  passing  in  my 
mind  at  that  moment  he  would  have  agreed.  It  would 
also  have  astonished  Mr.  Pratt  to  know  that  I  was  just 
then  raking  my  soul  in  order  to  think  of  something  to  say 
next. 

253 


WHERE   YOUR.  TREASURE    IS 

There  seemed  to  be  an  infernally  long  time  between 
the  shuttlings  of  the  White  Ghost.  I  felt  like  an  anarchist 
who  has  timed  a  bomb  and  finds  his  fuse  faulty.  Where 
in  the  devil's  name  was  the  fool  ?  I  knew  I  couldn't  stand 
there  and  tell  a  serial  story  to  Pratt.  A  dangerous  light 
was  coming  into  the  man's  eyes.  Astonishment  had  held 
him  for  the  first  few  moments,  then  fear  had  chained  him, 
but  finally  panic  was  plainly  breaking  out  in  him,  and  in 
such  cases  a  victim  will  run  amuck  regardless  of  conse- 
quences. I  felt  that  Pratt  was  getting  ready  to  howl  and 
leap  upon  me. 

Where  was  the  White  Ghost  ? 

The  thought  came  to  me  that  this  prolonged  absence 
hinted  at  one  consolation — the  White  Ghost  must  be 
filling  many  orders — his  tray  would  be  heaped  to  the 
ceiling. 

"Your  one  chance  is — "  said  I — and  then  it  happened! 

Without  warning,  the  swing  doors  burst  open  under  the 
kick  of  the  White  Ghost's  foot  and  forth  from  the  cavern 
of  the  kitchen  came  the  thunderbolt.  I  had  been  waiting 
and  listening,  and  was  ready  to  dodge.  The  petrified 
Pratt  never  stirred  a  stump.  There  was  a  howl  from 
warning  diners — a  collision,  a  terrific  crash,  and  Pratt 
went  down  under  the  avalanche.  The  White  Ghost  was 
lugging  one  of  the  biggest  loads  of  his  career.  There 
were  deep  plates  in  which  hot  and  greasy  soup  swam, 
there  were  gravied  meats,  nappies  of  vegetables,  tea, 
coffee,  macaroni,  pies,  and  puddings.  Mr.  Pratt  was 
buried  under  dishes,  hot  soup  blinded  his  eyes,  macaroni 
was  twined  around  his  neck,  pies  plastered  his  shirt 
bosom,  and  his  clothes  sopped  up  liquids.  He  might  have 
been  labeled,  "A  dinner  in  eruption!"  The  White 
Ghost  dove  across  him  and  skated  along  the  floor  on  his 
nose. 

I  hurried  to  Pratt  and  began  to  paw  the  dishes  from  off 
him.  And  having  planned  just  what  I  was  going  to  do 
and  knowing  just  where  to  seek  for  what  I  wanted,  I  dove 

254 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

a  hand  into  Pratt's  inside  vest  pocket  and  yanked  out  the 
big  wallet.  Other  men  ran  to  help  me,  there  was  excite- 
ment, and  in  that  mess  of  provisions  which  I  was  cuffing 
to  right  and  left  my  handling  of  the  wallet  was  noticed 
by  no  one.  I  was  kneeling  close  beside  Pratt  and  I 
shoved  the  wallet  between  my  knees,  and  when  I  arose, 
slid  it  up  under  my  coat. 

There  were  plenty  of  volunteers  whose  hands  were  out 
to  boost  Mr.  Pratt  to  his  feet.  His  eyes  were  tightly 
shut  and  he  was  bellowing  about  the  pain  the  soup  was 
giving  him.  I  took  the  r61e  of  close  friend  and  ordered 
the  rescuers  to  carry  Mr.  Pratt  to  the  wash-room  and  give 
him  first  aid  with  towels  and  water.  I  followed  close  upon 
their  heels  and  elbowed  Kingsley  along  with  the  push. 
The  judge  had  stood  at  some  distance  during  our  drama. 
I  pulled  his  hand  up  under  my  coat  and  set  it  on  the 
wallet. 

"Grab  it!"  I  whispered.  "Slip  it  under  your  coat; 
get  out  of  this  hotel  and  around  the  corner.  Jam  the 
money  into  your  stocking  and  stamp  the  wallet  down 
into  the  mud.  Be  careful  no  one  sees  you." 

It  was  on  me  that  Pratt's  eyes  first  opened — for  I  was 
swabbing  the  soup  out  of  those  eyes  with  the  end  of  a 
wet  towel. 

But  when  he  opened  his  mouth  I  swabbed  the  towel 
across  his  lips.  Other  volunteers  were  working  away 
at  the  clothing  of  the  victim  with  wet  towels. 

All  at  once  Pratt  began  to  slap  himself  on  the  breast 
and  howl.  His  laments  in  regard  to  the  hot  soup  in  his 
eyes  had  been  loud,  but  in  contrast  to  his  latest  outburst 
they  were  as  the  voice  of  the  chickadee  compared  with 
the  roar  of  the  lion.  After  he  had  beat  upon  his  breast, 
he  dove  a  greasy  hand  into  his  vest  pocket.  It  was 
empty.  His  eyes  goggled,  his  face  grew  purple,  he  shouted, 
he  swore,  and  he  raved. 

He  had  been  done,  trimmed,  robbed,  frisked,  touched — 
so  were  his  bellowings !  He  searched  his  soul  for  synonyms 

255 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

with  which  to  announce  to  the  world  that  his  wallet  had 
been  stolen.  And  then  he  accused  me — accused  me  witfc 
violence  and  profanity. 

"Just  one  moment,  sir,"  I  suggested,  taking  advantage 
of  a  moment  when  Mr.  Pratt  was  choking.  "You  are  sure 
those  dishes  didn't  crack  your  skull  a  bit  and  injure  your 
brain?" 

After  spitting  many  oaths,  Mr.  Pratt  declared  that  he 
was  all  right  and  knew  what  he  was  talking  about. 

"  You'll  have  to  back  that  up,"  I  told  him.  "Fifty  men 
were  looking  at  you  when  that  thing  happened.  I  have 
not  been  out  of  the  sight  of  those  men  since.  You  say 
it  was  a  large  wallet."  I  unbuttoned  my  coat  and  slung 
it  open.  ' '  Will  any  gentleman  present  kindly  search  me  ?" 

"  He  is  going  too  far  when  he  shoots  off  his  mouth  about 
a  gent  like  you,"  declared  somebody  in  the  crowd.  "We 
all  saw  you.  All  you  did  was  try  to  help  the  son  of  a  gun 
out  of  his  mess — and  that's  all  the  thanks  you  get!" 

"Mistakes  are  bound  to  occur.  I  demand  that  some 
gentleman  make  sure  that  I  have  no  wallet  on  my  person. 
My  own  money  is  in  a  roll  in  my  trousers  pocket." 

A  solid-looking  citizen  searched  me,  uttering  apologies. 

"There  ain't  any  wallet  on  this  gent,  and  you'd 
better  ask  his  pardon  for  remarks  offered,"  suggested 
the  citizen. 

But  Pratt  only  raved  the  louder. 

"I'd  like  to  say  a  word  just  here,"  called  a  voice.  The 
stage-driver  pushed  to  the  front.  "  You  all  know  me  and 
you  know  I  ain't  any  liar.  This  gent,  here,  is  a  friend  of 
mine  and  he  wouldn't  do  dirt  to  anybody.  He's  a  friend 
of  our  mayor,  too."  He  put  his  hand  affectionately  on 
my  shoulder.  "But  as  for  that  other  cuss,  there,  in  the 
piebald  clothes,  I  heard  him  make  threats  not  longer  ago 
than  this  morning  that  he  would  get  my  friend,  and  get 
him  good  and  plenty." 

"Maybe  you  think  I  arranged  to  have  those  seventeen 
dinners  dumped  over  me  so  as  to  make  the  plot  a  good 

256 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

one,  you  pie-eyed  horse-walloper,  you,"  squealed  Pratt, 
beginning  to  "weave"  in  his  fury  like  a  caged  bear. 

"I  wouldn't  wonder  a  mite,"  replied  the  driver,  coolly. 
"  When  I  heard  you  threatening  to  get  my  friend  you  was 
mad  enough  to  try  on  'most  anything." 

"He  got  my  money,  I  tell  you.  I  felt  him  at  my 
pocket  while  I  was  trying  to  get  my  senses  back.  Blast 
you  all  for  infernal  fools,  I've  been  robbed  right  before 
your  eyes  and  you're  backing  up  the  thief." 

There  was  a  stir  at  the  door  and  the  crowd  glanced  that 
way  and  parted  respectfully.  It  was  His  Honor  the 
Mayor  of  Breed  City.  He  stood  for  a  few  moments  and 
listened  to  the  language  Pratt  addressed  to  me.  Then 
he  broke  in  with  authority: 

"Just  a  moment,  citizens!  There's  a  lot  about  this 
affair,  here,  that  I  know  and  cannot  tell.  As  for  that 
knave  who  accuses  Mr.  Mann,  I  declare  on  my  honor  that 
he  is  a  dangerous  foe  to  this  city.  He  has  come  here  to 
try  to  ruin  it  if  his  scheme  works." 

Mr.  Pratt  at  this  point  managed  to  control  the  amaze- 
ment that  was  provoked  by  the  appearance  of  this  new 
champion. 

"  I  tell  you,  Mayor,"  he  shouted,  "  you've  got  the  wrong 
dope  about  me.  Dragg  tried  to  get  me  into  the  scheme, 
but  I—" 

"  You  are  convicting  yourself  right  now  out  of  your  own 
mouth,"  broke  in  the  mayor.  He  marched  up  to  Pratt, 
finger  upraised:  "You  are  as  dangerous  here  as  a  dyna- 
mite bomb.  I'll  allow  you  thirty  minutes  to  get  out  of 
town.  Get  to  those  other  two  knaves  and  warn  them 
that  they'll  be  lynched  if  they  show  up  here — and  I'll 
lead  the  lynching-bee." 

There  was  immediate  change  in  Mr.  Pratt's  demeanor 
and  the  mayor  and  the  bystanders  listened  to  him.  The 
fat  face  was  lined  with  grief,  and  tears  ran  down  his 
cheeks  and  mingled  with  the  grub  stains. 

"  I'm  not  lying  about  that  wallet,  gents.  I've  lost  my 

257 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

bundle.  It  has  been  stolen.  That's  a  nice  word  to  go 
out  about  Breed  City — that  a  visitor  to  town  loses  his 
wad  and  the  mayor  backs  up  the  man  who  stole  it!" 

"Silence!"  said  the  mayor. 

"  Then  I'll  simply  say  that  I've  lost  my  money — and  how 
about  law  and  order  in  a  city  that  will  let  a  man  be 
trimmed  in  that  style?  Hold  on  one  minute,  Mr.  Mayor! 
It  isn't  merely  a  case  of  my  own  money!  If  it  was, 
I'd  shut  up  now  and  pass  on.  But  I  had  along  with  mine 
the  money  of  a  good  friend  who  trusted  me  with  his  roll. 
I  left  him  in  the  calaboose  back  on  the  trail  and  I  brought 
out  his  money  to  take  care  of  it  for  him,  for  he  was  afraid 
they'd  get  to  him  for  it.  That's  God's  truth,  Mayor." 

In  a  crowd  there  may  be  found  champions  for  the  under 
dog — even  when  a  mayor  has  turned  down  his  thumb.  I 
heard  murmurs.  One  voice  suggested  that  the  matter 
better  be  looked  into — the  good  name  of  Breed  City 
demanded  it. 

"  I  haven't  much  to  say  in  this  business,  even  though  this 
man  has  accused  me,"  I  said  in  the  silence  that  followed. 
"Now  that  you  are  on  the  subject  of  your  money,  Mr. 
Pratt,  and  are  making  such  a  squeal  in  regard  to  the  loss 
of  it,  will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you  how  much  of  it  was 
money  you  stole  in  the  East — especially  from  Zebulon 
Kingsley  of  Levant?" 

If  I  had  struck  "Peacock"  Pratt  between  the  eyes  the 
effect  could  not  have  been  more  noticeable.  Most  of 
those  men  who  were  present  had  been  trained  to  gauge  the 
human  expression  in  that  region  of  plain  and  mountain 
where  life  itself  sometimes  depends  on  the  ability  to  judge 
between  bluff  and  resolve.  His  fat  cheeks  flushed  and 
then  they  grew  pale.  That  a  stranger  in  the  Far  West 
should  be  able  to  cast  in  his  teeth  one  of  his  latest  ex- 
ploits staggered  him.  He  tried  to  speak  and  couldn't. 

"Pratt,  you  have  twenty-two  more  minutes  left  of  that 
half  hour,"  stated  the  mayor,  after  silence  had  continued 
for  some  moments. 

258 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

" I  suppose  that  has  to  go  for  to-day,"  said  Pratt.  "But 
it  doesn't  go  for  to-morrow — nor  for  next  day  if  my  friends 
and  I  can  get  back  here,  Mr.  Mayor!  Lynch  or  no 
lynch!" 

He  buttoned  his  waistcoat,  took  a  mournful  look  at 
himself  in  the  wash-room  mirror,  and  headed  for  a  livery- 
stable  which  a  sarcastic  bystander  recommended.  I 
knew  that  threat  to  come  back  wasn't  mere  talk.  Mr. 
Pratt  had  good  reason  to  take  the  risks! 

I  took  my  first  chance  and  escaped  from  the  populace 
of  Breed  City  to  hunt  up  Kingsley  in  the  little  room  in  the 
hotel. 

"How  much?"    I  was  all  a-tremble. 

"A  little  over  six  thousand  dollars.  Mostly  five- 
hundred-dollar  bills.  Part  of  it  is  tied  up  in  a  separate 
package  and  marked  with  Dawlin's  name."  The  judge 
was  not  very  enthusiastic. 

I  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed. 

"In  order  to  be  on  the  right  side  and  make  allowance 
for  delays  here  and  there,  we  ought  to  leave  here  to- 
morrow, Judge  Kingsley.  And  even  then  we'd  be  having 
hours  for  a  margin — not  days.  I  felt  pretty  good  when 
I  heard  Pratt  say  that  he  had  Dawlin's  money  along.  I 
figured  there  would  be  more  between  the  two  of  'em." 

"Then  it's  all  over,  is  it?    We're  beaten,  eh?" 

"What  do  you  think?" 

"I  think  we  are." 

"Well,  sir,"  I  said,  "you  and  I  have  always  seemed  to 
make  more  progress  when  I  take  the  opposite  side  in  an 
argument.  I  predict  that  we  shall  win  out.  Please  hand 
over  that  money." 

"The  money  is  mine — it  was  stolen  from  me.  You're 
too  reckless  to  handle  money.  We're  beaten,  I  tell  you. 
I'll  send  that  money  home  to  my  wife  and  daughter.  It's 
something  for  them  to  live  on.  I'll  kill  myself  out  here." 

Judge  Kingsley  put  both  hands  over  his  breast  pocket. 
He  was  hysterical.  There  was  no  reasoning  with  him  and 

259 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

so  I  rose  from  the  bed,  walked  across  the  room,  and 
snapped  a  finger  under  his  nose.  Zebulon  Kingsley  must 
not  have  money  in  his  pocket — in  that  case  I  could  not 
handle  him  or  trust  him  to  stay  with  me ! 

"  Give — me — that — money !" 

He  stared  and  groaned  and  obeyed. 

I  divided  the  bills  into  packets,  tucked  them  into  my 
various  pockets,  and  walked  out  of  the  room. 

"This  money  needs  an  airing,"  I  informed  the  judge. 
"I'll  take  it  outdoors  and  give  it  one.  It  has  been  in 
some  mighty  bad  company." 


XXII 

MONEY   ON  THE   GALLOP 

IN  most  circumstances,  being  padded  with  bills  to  the 
amount  of  six  thousand  dollars  would  be  comfortably 
warming.  But  in  my  case  the  possession  of  that  sum 
only  provoked  irritation. 

I  had  set  out  to  save  Zebulon  Kingsley's  name  and  the 
peace  of  mind  of  his  family.  The  sum  I  had  replevined 
by  my  scheme  of  justice  fell  far  short  of  what  we  needed — 
and  there  was  the  promise  I  had  given  Dodovah  Vose,  as 
well. 

From  the  hotel  porch  I  saw  my  friend,  the  stage-driver, 
humping  it  toward  me. 

"I  have  tripped,  tied,  and  gagged  him.  That  was  the 
only  thing  to  do !  He  got  here  and  he  got  two  drinks  into 
himself  before  I  could  slip  the  bridle  on  him.  In  another 
two  minutes  he  would  have  been  jumping  clear  off  n 
the  ground,  head  and  tail  up,  snorting  out  everything  he 
knows.  But  I  got  to  him — and  I've  laid  him  away,  tied 
and  gagged.  Go  to  it,  Mr.  Mann,  go  to  it,  I  tell  you!" 

He  certainly  was  some  excited! 

"Are  you  talking  about  a  man  or  a  cayuse?"  I  asked. 

"I'm  talking  about  'Dirty-shirt' — he's  just  in  from 
Blacksnake  Gully  ahead  of  the  news.  Say,  they've 
struck  a  brown  crumble  in  'Bright  Eyes'  with  gold  set 
into  the  mush  like  raisins  in  a  drunken  cook's  pudding. 
You're  a  sport  and  a  friend  of  mine.  I'm  letting  you  in. 
Come  along!" 

He  ran  away  a  little  distance  and  whirled  and  halted 
with  the  eager  air  of  a  dog  who  is  inviting  his  master  to 

261 


follow.  I'll  bet  if  he  had  had  long  ears  he  would  have 
perked  them;  if  he  had  had  a  tail  he  would  have  wagged  it. 

"You're  a  sport — and  I  know  it.  Come  along,"  he 
called. 

Along  the  street  came  loafing  the  individual  who  had 
tried  to  sell  me  "Bright  Eyes"  stock,  and  he  heard  that 
call. 

"You're  barking  up  the  wrong  tree,  pard,"  he  advised 
the  driver.  "He's  no  sport.  I  have  tried  him  out.  He 
won't  take  a  chance.  I  gave  him  a  chance  on  some 
mining  shares." 

"What  shares?"  asked  the  stage-driver. 

"'Bright  Eyes'  in  the  Blacksnake." 

My  friend  was  truly  a  good  actor.  He  showed  no 
interest. 

"Shift  the  name  to  'blacked  eyes.'  Yes,  and  both  of 
'em  closed  at  that.  No  good !" 

"I  tell  you  there's  something  in  the  air,"  insisted  the 
other.  "It's  a  fair  gamble  at  twenty-five  cents  a  share." 
He  pulled  out  some  papers  and  walked  up  to  me. 

"You  look  like  ready  money,  my  friend.  I'd  rather 
play  the  wheel  just  now  than  be  rich.  I'm  tied  in  here 
by  the  mud  and  it's  getting  on  to  my  nerves.  Take  ten 
thousand  at  twenty-five  cents.  I'll  close  out  to  you." 

"Hold  on!"  sang  out  the  driver,  and  he  managed  to 
smuggle  a  wink  to  me  while  he  was  tugging  papers  out  of 
his  pocket  on  his  way  back  to  join  us.  "If  you're  in  the 
market  for  'Bright  Eyes,'  Eastern  fellow,  here's  ten 
thousand  shares  for  fifteen  cents  a  share." 

"Don't  you  come  butting  in  on  my  market,"  protested 
the  prospector,  elbowing  the  driver  away.  "I  got  to  this 
gent  first." 

"Those  shares  have  been  used  all  over  this  section  for 
counters  in  poker  games  when  beans  got  too  expensive," 
sneered  the  driver. 

The  prospector  pulled  out  more  papers. 

"If  you'll  take  twenty  thousand  at  ten  cents  a  share 

262 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I'll  pass  'em  over.  I  was  intending  to  hold  on  to  ten 
thousand  shares  for  a  gamble.  I  tell  you  there's  some- 
thing, somehow,  somewhere,  that  says  the  hunch  is  out 
for  'Bright  Eyes.'  But  I'll  let  go  for  ten  cents  if  you'll 
take  the  bunch." 

"That's  no  better  offer. than  you  made  the  other  night," 
I  stated. 

"I  was  pretty  drunk,  then,  and  I  didn't  mean  to  make 
it.  I'm  daffy  now,  I  reckon,  or  I  wouldn't  be  doing  it 
over  again." 

I  stood  there  and  looked  them  over  and  for  the  first 
time  I  gave  a  little  real  thought  to  that  gold-mine  propo- 
sition. Up  to  then  the  matter  had  been  mere  sound, 
shooting  into  one  ear  and  out  the  other.  I  had  been 
having  plenty  to  think  about  in  other  lines. 

It  struck  me  that  I  was  being  played  for  a  sucker  by  a 
couple  of  mighty  awkward  amateurs.  Talk  about  Zebulon 
Kingsley  buying  a  gold  brick!  That  affair  had  been  well 
buttered  by  some  slick  operators.  What  those  two  chaps 
were  trying  on  me  was  truly  raw  work.  That  stage- 
driver — I  didn't  even  know  his  name — must  have  a  healthy 
hate  for  me  hidden  deep  down  in  him!  I  have  cuffed  a 
dog  in  my  life  and  had  him  show  more  affection  after- 
ward, but  I  couldn't  believe  that  such  treatment  helped 
to  mellow  love  in  a  human  being.  I  knew  it  wouldn't 
improve  my  own  disposition  any.  In  my  thoughts  I  had 
some  excuse  for  the  two.  They  had  probably  been  brought 
up  to  believe  that  the  ordinary  Easterner  who  had  not 
already  bought  some  punk  gold-mine  stock  was  thriftily 
saving  up  to  buy  some. 

"There's  one  of  'em  born  every  minute,"  I  remarked 
to  the  stage-driver,  "but  I  didn't  know  I  looked  so  much 
like  one.  Run  away,  the  two  of  you,  and  fan  yourselves 
with  that  stock;  that's  the  only  way  you'll  ever  raise 
any  wind  with  it." 

"You  ain't  talking  to  me,  are  you — to  me — Wash 
Flye?"  inquired  the  driver. 

18  263 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"I  am,  if  that's  your  name — and  it  seems  to  fit  you! 
But  you  are  not  fly  enough!" 

He  opened  eyes  and  mouth  on  me,  stepped  back  a  few- 
feet,  and  visibly  swelled. 

"Well,  my-y-y  Ga-a-awd!"  he  wailed.  "If  that  ain't 
using  the  butt  end  of  the  whip  on  a  willing  friend,  may  I 
never  sort  webbin's  again!" 

There  was  truly  something  sincere  in  his  distress.  But 
that  sudden  warming-up  to  me  on  the  prairie  after  I  had 
manhandled  him,  his  unaccountable  friendliness,  his 
jacking  his  job  for  a  few  days  in  order  to  dog  me  about 
Breed  City — the  whole  thing  was  too  openly  a  plant. 

"You're  a  good  actor.  No  wonder  you're  in  the  stage 
business,  Flye,"  was  my  poor  joke. 

He  looked  at  me  for  a  full  minute.  Then  he  turned  on 
the  other  man. 

"It's  you,  you  horn-gilled  wump,  with  your  sashay 
prices  and  your  drunken  man's  gab — it's  you  that  has 
put  me  in  wrong  with  a  friend,"  he  squealed.  "He  thinks 
I'm  like  you  are!  He  thinks  I'm  in  mush  with  you  on  a 
brace!  I'll  show  him  and  you!"  He  leaped  forward  and 
began  to  kick  the  prospector  with  fury.  The  latter  was  a 
big  and  rather  torpid  person  and  he  seemed  to  be  in  a  sort 
of  daze  at  first,  and  stood  still  while  Mr.  Flye  kicked  him. 
Then  he  turned  and  knocked  Mr.  Flye  down;  he  picked 
him  up  and  knocked  him  down  again. 

It  struck  me  that  if  this  were  acting  between  friends  it 
was  getting  too  realistic.  The  driver's  face  was  bloody 
and  he  lay  where  he  fell,  his  eyes  closed. 

I  jumped  between  and  pushed  the  prospector  away. 
He  struck  at  me  and  I  was  obliged  to  hit  him  a  clip  or 
two  before  he  would  hold  off.  We  had  a  fairly  good 
audience,  but  fisticuffs  in  Breed,  when  the  muddy  season 
made  tempers  short,  seemed  to  stir  only  mild  interest. 

I  found  Mr.  Flye  on  his  knees  and  "weaving"  weakly 
when  I  turned  to  him. 

"I  ain't  no  fighter — I  don't  pretend  to  be  a  fighter," 

264 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

he  mumbled.  "  I  knew  he  was  going  to  lick  me  if  I  kicked 
him.  But  that's  all  right!  There's  three  teeth  loose  and 
my  eyes  are  bunging!  I  can  feel  'em!  But  it's  all  right. 
If  anybody  thinks  it  was  a  scuffle  between  friends,  he'd 
better  take  another  think.  I've  took  a  licking  to  show 
some  folks  that  there's  such  a  thing  as  being  mistook  in 
a  man." 

I  hadn't  straightened  out  my  opinions,  exactly,  but  I 
felt  sudden  pity  and  new  respect  for  Mr.  Flye,  and  some 
emotion  even  deeper.  I  helped  him  to  his  feet  and  took 
him  into  the  wash-room  of  the  hotel  and  fixed  him  up  as 
best  I  could. 

"  I  don't  blame  you  so  very  much,"  he  kept  assuring  me, 
whimpering  through  his  bruised  and  bleeding  lips.  ,  "It 
probably  hasn't  seemed  natural  to  you — it  hasn't  seemed 
natural  to  me.  This  world  is  full  of  crooks  and  I  s'pose 
you've  been  up  against  a  lot  of  'em.  I  done  one  crooked 
thing  myself  once  when  I  kept  water  away  from  a  drove 
of  hogs  for  two  days  and  then  let  'em  drink  all  they  could 
hold  just  before  I  sold  'em  live  weight  to  a  Snake  River 
drover.  But  that  drover  had  stolen  two  cayuses  off'n 
my  uncle!  I  didn't  know  what  I  could  do  to  show  you, 
sir!  Probably  what  I  have  done  don't  show  you.  But 
I've  done  my  best.  It  was  all  I  could  think  of  on  short 
notice.  I'll  let  a  dozen  men  beat  me  up  if  you  will  only 
understand  that  I  ain't  going  to  do  you  or  try  to  do  you!" 

That  spirit  of  humble  martyrdom  was  certainly  getting 
to  me! 

"Look  here,  Mr  Flye,"  I  blurted,  "I  don't  understand 
at  all.  Why  in  blazes  are  you  taking  all  this  interest  in 
me?" 

He  gazed  at  me  out  of  those  pathetic,  pale-blue  eyes 
around  which  blue-black  circles  were  settling.  It  was  a 
lingering  and  wistful  gaze. 

"I  don't  know,  sir.  It  came  over  me  all  of  a  sudden. 
It  ain't  often  I  take  to  anybody.  It  just  came  over  me. 
You're  a  real  gent — you  knowed  just  how  to  handle  me. 

265 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

You  know  how  to  handle  me  now!    Ain't  you  doing  the 
friendly  act,  hey?" 

We  were  alone  in  the  wash-room ;  the  guests  of  the  hotel 
flocked  there  only  at  meal-time. 

"You  can  see  how  it  looked  to  me — a  stranger  here — • 
you  two  fellows  chasing  me  up!" 

"I  don't  blame  you,  sir,"  he  agreed,  meekly.  "This 
world  is  full  of  crooks." 

"I  have  some  money  with  me.  It  isn't  mine.  I  need 
more  in  a  hurry — it's  to  save  a  man's  name — save  him 
from  death,  perhaps!"  I  couldn't  hold  in.  "It's  to  save 
his  daughter,  too.  I'm  in  love  with  her.  I  have  been  for 
years!  It's  all  I  can  think  about.  When  you  spoke  of 
'Bright  Eyes'  I  felt — I  felt — "  I  stopped  and  gulped. 

"I  reckon  I  know  how  you  feel,"  stated  Mr.  Flye, 
wagging  that  mussed-up  head  of  his.  "I  know  a  girl. 
There's  hardly  a  minute  when  I  ain't  thinking  about  her. 
She  hasn't  paid  no  attention  to  me,  but  I'm  going  to  her 
after  I  make  my  clean-up  on  'Bright  Eyes'!  It  makes 
'em  think  twice  when  there's  money.  I  ain't  much — " 

"I'm  desperate — I'm  half  crazy,  Flye!  This  mine! 
Are  you  fooling  me?" 

He  straightened  and  put  his  hand  up  like  a  man  taking 
the  oath. 

"  I  wanted  you  to  get  in  because  I  liked  you,  sir.  That's 
why  I  was  after  you.  But  now  that  you  say  that  you 
need  money  I'm  begging  and  imploring  you!  If  money 
will  do  what  you  say  it  will  in  your  case,  I  say  'fore  God 
you'll  commit  a  sin  if  you  don't  grab  in!  I  know  it!  It 
has  come.  '  Dirty-shirt '  don't  know  how  to  lie  about  it. 
The  strike  has  been  made.  Take  my  word,"  he  pleaded. 

"I'll  do  it,"  I  told  him.  "I  believe  you're  trying  to  do 
an  honest  turn  for  me. ' '  I  put  out  my  hand  and  he  took  it . 

"  Thank  the  Lord !"  he  said,  and  there  was  a  lot  of  manli- 
ness about  Mr.  Wash  Flye  at  that  moment.  "That  lick- 
ing was  a  good  investment."  He  said  it  devoutly. 

"But  will  that  fellow  sell  now?" 

266 


"Can  you  handle  his  twenty  thousand  shares  at  ten 
cents — two  thousand  dollars?" 

"Yes." 

"When  I  offered  at  fifteen  I  was  trying  to  beat  him  down 
to  ten.  Don't  give  a  cent  more.  Go  show  him  the  money 
and  say  you're  willing  to  be  buncoed  once  in  your  life. 
And  hurry — for  the  love  of  Sancho,  hurry!" 

I  found  the  prospector  watching  a  roulette  game  with 
the  sour  gaze  of  a  busted  gambler.  He  went  into  the  corner 
with  me  when  I  jerked  invitation  with  my  chin. 

"I've  changed  my  mind,"  he  growled,  when  I  men- 
tioned the  stock.  "And  I  wouldn't  do  business  with  you 
anyway,  you — " 

I  unfolded  four  five-hundred-dollar  bills.  He  stopped 
his  declaration  as  suddenly  as  if  I  had  pinched  his  throat. 

"Money  is  money,  I  suppose,"  said  he,  "though  your 
shin-plasters  from  the  East  are  poor  things  alongside  the 
good  hard  coin." 

"There's  the  bank  across  the  street,  and  they'll  give 
you  the  good  hard  coin,  mister." 

He  pulled  out  his  packet  and  I  verified  the  amount  of 
the  certificates. 

I  went  to  the  bank  in  his  company,  for  he  seemed  to  be 
bothered  with  the  notion  that  those  five-hundred-dollar 
bills  needed  me  as  introducer  and  sponsor.  Then  he  hot- 
footed out,  weighted  with  the  coin.  In  spite  of  myself 
and  of  my  fresh  faith  in  Mr.  Flye,  my  heart  sank  con- 
siderably when  I  saw  that  money  take  legs.  The  cashier 
was  one  of  the  amiable  citizens  I  had  met  in  the  delega- 
tion from  the  Chamber  of  Commerce. 

"Making  a  little  investment?"  he  inquired,  sociably. 

"A  foolish  one,  I  am  afraid.  But  an  Easterner  who 
hasn't  had  a  flier  in  a  gold-mine  at  least  once  in  his  life 
gets  to  feeling  lonesome  after  a  time.  That  chap  has 
been  chasing  me  around  with  stock  and  a  story  and  I 
have  tossed  a  little  spare  change  to  him." 

The  cashier  peered  through  the  wicket  and  beamed  with 

267 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

new  respect  on  a  man  who  could  speak  of  two  thousand 
dollars  as  spare  change. 

"There  are  mines — and  then  there  are  mines,"  he 
suggested. 

I  thought  I  might  as  well  try  my  new  tune  over  on  this 
piano. 

"It's  a  proposition  called  'Two  Bright  Eyes."  I 
tried  to  seem  indifferent,  but  my  heart  was  only  about 
an  inch  below  my  larynx  and  I  could  hardly  get  the 
words  out. 

I  thought  he  would  never  speak.  He  scratched  his 
nose  and  fiddled  with  his  ear.  I  wanted  to  reach  in  and 
shake  him  so  that  he  would  say  something,  even  if  he 
would  only  say  that  I  had  been  nicely  fooled. 

"The  property  had  rather  a  promising  outlook  at  one 
time,  sir.  It  was  located  by  good  prospectors  and  after- 
ward two  or  three  other  claims  were  taken  in.  The 
section  is  first-rate!" 

Not  wildly  encouraging. 

"But  the  stock  hasn't  been  much  thought  of  in  these 
parts — it  has  been  footballed  around  a  lot.  Still" — he 
twisted  his  mustache  and  waited  a  few  moments  — 
"well,  I'll  tell  you  this  confidentially,  if  I  wasn't  a  bank 
man — and  you  know  we  have  to  move  in  grooves  of 
caution — if  I  could  afford  to  do  a  little  gambling  I  think 
I  would  have  picked  up  a  small  bunch  of  this  loose  stock. 
I  got  a  flicker  of  a  hint  from  a  mining  engineer  who  banks 
here.  Nothing  definite — they  can't  talk  much.  But  I 
know  they  have  been  running  new  leads.  The  first 
development  wasn't  very  scientific,  I  understand." 

"Does  a —  When  they  make  a  real  strike — do  prices 
run  up  pretty  sudden?"  I  managed  to  ask. 

He  smiled.  "I  see  you  have  never  been  in  a  mining 
town  when  a  bonanza  toots.  Everybody  goes  crazy. 
They'll  climb  over  one  another  to  buy  stock.  Those 
who  can't  buy  stock  go  racing  off  to  see  what  they  can 
grab  in  the  way  of  adjacent  claims.  Very  exciting,  sir! 

268 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

Wish  we  might  show  you  a  circus  of  that  kind  while 
you're  in  town." 

When  I  went  out  on  the  street  I  found  Mr.  Flye  waiting 
around  the  corner. 

"You  traded?"  he  gasped.  "He's  over  there  tossing 
away  twenty-dollar  gold  pieces!" 

"I've  got  twenty  thousand  shares,"  I  said,  dolefully. 

"Then  I'm  going  to  let  'Dirty-shirt'  loose.  He'll 
swell  up  and  bust  if  I  don't  get  that  gag  out  of  his  mouth." 

"But  will  anybody  believe  what  he  says?" 

Honestly,  a  gold-mine  was  unreal  to  me!  I  had 
Eastern  prejudices. 

"You  go  over  there  and  stand  on  the  hotel  porch,  sir! 
You'll  see  almighty  sudden  how  news  hits  a  mining  town. 
'Dirty-shirt'  Maddox  don't  have  to  bring  a  gold-mine 
down  into  Breed  City.  He's  the  bulletin,  that's  all. 
There'll  be  proof  enough  pretty  close  on  his  heels." 

So  I  went  over  on  the  tavern  porch.  Five  minutes  later 
I  realized  that  the  bulletin  was  loose.  "  It "  came  whoop- 
ing around  a  corner  of  the  street. 

Mr.  Maddox's  nickname  fitted  him  perfectly;  in  fact, 
he  was  well  caked  with  mud  from  head  to  feet.  Plainly 
he  had  not  stopped  to  pick  dry  spots  in  his  rush  down  to 
Breed  City.  He  was  shaking  a  canvas  bag  over  his 
head  with  one  hand  and  in  the  other  flourished  a  handful 
of  stock  certificates. 

"Who's  got  'Bright  Eyes'?  They've  hit  it!  High 
grade  from  Buffalo  Hump  clear  through  the  earth  to 
Chiny!  Whoosh!  Who  wants  'Bright  Eyes'?  Here's 
some  that's  loose.  And  there  ain't  much  loose,  gents! 
They  have  been  picking  it  up!  High  grade  and  pockets 
full  of  crumble!" 

He  shook-  the  canvas  bag  and  opened  it  when  men  went 
crowding  about  him. 

"There  he  is,"  announced  Mr.  Flye  at  my  side. 

"Looks  the  part,"  said  I. 

"After  I  had  rubbed  his  jaws  where  the  gag  had  hurt," 

269 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

confided  my  friend,  "he  told  me  that  he  ain't  more  'n 
four  jumps  ahead  of  the  boss  engineer  expert  who  is 
bringing  out  the  samples  for  the  report.  All  you've 
got  to  do  now,  sir,  is  to  sit  tight  and  look  wise!" 

My  unlucky  friend  could  not  do  much  looking  for  his 
part;  his  eyes  were  swelled  so  badly  that  he  could  hardly 
open  them. 

"Look  here,  Mr.  Flye,"  I  said,  with  a  lot  of  repentance, 
"  I  must  seem  to  you  like  pretty  much  of  a  crab.  I  don't 
know  how — " 

•  "It  was  only  a  gold-mine  guess,  according  to  your  no- 
tion, sir.  And  I  know  how  an  Easterner  must  feel  on  that 
point.  But  when  I  have  a  friend  and  make  up  my  mind 
to  let  him  in  on  a  good  thing  I  propose  to  do  it,  even  if  I 
have  to  apologize  to  him  afterward  for  being  almighty 
fresh.  So  I—" 

"Don't  make  me  feel  worse  than  I  am  feeling!" 

There  was  a  crowd  in  the  street  of  Breed  City  by  that 
time  and  Mr.  Maddox,  in  the  center  of  it,  had  worked  him- 
self into  a  frenzy  of  excitement  and  was  offering  "Bright 
Eyes"  stock  at  a  million  dollars  a  share. 

"Don't  mind  that  kind  of  talk,"  advised  Mr.  Flye. 
"He's  half  tight,  and  his  coco  ain't  just  right  when  he 
gets  to  talking  in  a  crowd,  but  you  needn't  worry  but 
what  his  news  is  all  right.  And  you  can  see  for  your- 
self!" 

Several  men  were  larruping  cayuses  up  the  street,  bags 
dangling  from  saddle-bows. 

" It's  the  first  of  the  rush  for  the  'Bright  Eyes'  section. 
Some  of  the  critters  out  this  way  can  beat  firemen  for 
quick  action,"  stated  Mr.  Flye.  Perhaps  to  emphasize 
the  fact  that  now  at  last  he  felt  himself  on  a  footing  of 
intimate  friendship  with  me,  he  plucked  a  cigar  from  my 
vest  pocket  and  lighted  up. 

"I  see  you  don't  smoke — you  probably  chaw,"  he  sug- 
gested, and  he  handed  his  plug  to  me. 

When  I  state  here  that  I  promptly  took  the  plug, 

270 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

whittled  off  a  chunk,  palmed  it,  and  put  some  gum  into 
my  mouth,  the  depth  of  my  esteem  for  Mr.  Flye  may  be 
understood.  I  would  rather  have  chewed  that  tobacco 
than  hurt  his  feelings  by  refusing  a  friendly  offer. 

While  we  stood  there  a  bearded  man  rode  down  the 
street,  mud-covered. 

"And  there's  the  man  who  will  back  me  up!"  squealed 
Maddox.  "There  comes  the  boss  engineer!  He  knows 
what's  under  cover  in  'Bright  Eyes'!" 

But  the  bearded  man  rode  right  through  the  crowd 
without  answering  questions.  He  alighted  in  front  of  the 
bank  and  went  in,  tugging  something  in  his  hand. 

As  a  new,  and  somewhat  heavy,  stockholder  in  "Bright 
Eyes  "  gold-mine,  I  reckoned  I'd  try  to  get  a  little  informa- 
tion from  that  engineer — I  was  quite  sure  that  an  Eastern 
capitalist  who  wore  a  silk  hat  and  had  a  friend  in  the 
bank  cashier  might  expect  a  little  more  attention  than  a 
street  bystander.  Therefore,  with  a  word  to  my  friend 
Flye  I  went  over  to  find  out  the  best  or  the  worst. 


XXIII 

THE   CLEAN-UP 

AiTER  I  had  been  properly  indorsed  by  the  cashier, 
the  mining  engineer  gave  me  some  mighty  comfort- 
ing information,  though  I  did  not  understand  the  techni- 
cal lingo  very  well.  He  was  conservative;  he  was  not  at  all 
excited.  We  could  hear  "Dirty-shirt"  still  orating. 

"Of  course  that  old  lunatic  doesn't  know  what  he  is 
talking  about,"  said  the  engineer.  "There  are  always 
some  of  that  sort  to  run  and  rant  and  stir  up  excitement 
and  start  poor  fools  off  on  a  wild-goose  chase." 

He  opened  a  sack  and  showed  me  ore  and  hunks  of 
crumbly  rock  which  looked  like  nothing  special.  I  had 
rather  expected  to  see  nuggets.  He  explained  that  the 
crumbly  stuff  was  high  grade,  very  much  so,  but  there 
were  only  scattered  pockets  of  it  in  the  "Bright  Eyes" 
claim. 

"The  parties  who  first  located  the  property,"  said  he, 
"simply  skun  in  for  what  pockets  they  were  able  to  open. 
They  had  to  pack  all  their  ore  out  on  cayuses  and  ship  it 
to  Tacoma,  and  there  was  no  profit  to  speak  of  unless  the 
ore  yielded  over  a  couple  hundred  dollars  a  ton.  So  when 
they  quit  the  job  the  mine  seemed  to  be  played  out." 
Then  he  went  on  with  his  technical  talk,  and  about  all  I 
could  do  was  to  blink  and  try  to  look  wise. 

"You  can  be  sure  that  Newell  knows  what  he  is  talking 
about,"  put  in  the  cashier. 

I  wished  /  knew.  I  wanted  to  butt  in  with  some 
excited  questions.  "But  I  did  understand  that  the  men 
who  had  gathered  up  most  of  the  stock  of  the  mine  were 

272 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

going  to  build  a  smelter  and  tackle  the  thing  right  end  to. 
There  was  plenty  of  ore  and  the  mine  would  pay  after 
development  was  the  comforting  information  handed  to 
me  at  last. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  but  how  many  shares  went  to  you 
in  that  trade  you  just  made?"  asked  the  cashier.  "That 
is,  if  you're  willing  to  tell  me." 

"Twenty  thousand — I  bought  for  ten  cents  a  share." 

The  engineer  showed  some  surprise. 

"I  didn't  think  so  much  of  the  loose  stuff  was  corralled 
in  one  bunch ;  we  thought  what  we  hadn't  picked  up  was 
scattered  so  wide  that  we  wouldn't  bother  to  chase  it," 
said  he.  "How  did  you  happen  to  grab  in  on  it?" 

I  didn't  propose  to  betray  Mr.  Flye. 

"Oh,  it  was  just  a  gamble!  A  fellow  kept  following 
around  after  me  and  I  bought  to  get  rid  of  him." 

"Some  of  you  Eastern  Yankees  certainly  can  use  your 
noses  for  something  else  than  to  talk  through,"  said  the 
engineer. 

"If  I  smelled  a  bargain  when  I  bought  that  stock  I 
reckon  it  must  have  been  hunch  instead  of  knowledge." 

"Well,  stick  by  and  stand  your  assessment  for  the 
smelter  and  you  won't  be  sorry." 

Mayor  Ware  and  several  other  citizens  came  hurrying 
to  have  the  news  about  "Bright  Eyes"  confirmed.  I 
stood  at  one  side  for  a  time,  listening  and  meditating. 
When  the  cashier  told  them  of  my  lucky  strike  they  were 
immensely  tickled. 

"But  you  know  we  Easterners  never  can  make  a  gold- 
mine seem  real,"  I  said. 

"In  most  cases  where  they're  selling  stock  East  the 
mines  are  not  real.  But  you're  West,  now,  and  you 
happened  in  on  the  ground  floor,"  said  the  mayor.  "I 
am  sorry  I'm  not  there,  too." 

"You  can  be,"  I  promptly  informed  him.  "I'm  called 
back  home.  I'm  in  a  hurry.  I  don't  know  anything  about 
gold-mines.  I  can't  come  back  here  to  watch  my  interests. 

273 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

You  folks  out  here  know  all  about  mines  and  values.  My 
stock  is  for  sale  if  anybody  wants  it." 

"What  price?"  inquired  the  mayor.  "We  might  make 
up  a  little  syndicate.  How  much  do  you  want  for  the 
stock?" 

"I  don't  know,"  I  confessed,  frankly.  "It's  all  new  to 
me.  I  paid  ten  cents  a  share.  When  a  gold-mine  gets  to 
paying  I  don't  know  how  much  it  pays." 

"It  depends  on  the  mine,"  stated  the  engineer.  "We 
can  do  a  pretty  good  job  of  guessing  in  our  line,  but  we 
can't  see  all  that's  underground." 

I  pulled  out  my  packet  of  stock. 

"I  tell  you  honestly,  gentlemen,  this  seems  more  or 
less  like  a  joke  to  me — and  that  being  the  case  I'll  sell 
cheap." 

"  It's  really  worth  par — or  it  will  be  in  time,  I'm  sure," 
stated  the  mayor,  in  honest  fashion.  "We  are  under 
great  obligations  to  you,  sir,  ancl  we  don't  want  to  take 
advantage  of  you  in  any  way." 

"And  I  feel  just  that  same  way  toward  you,  gentle- 
men," I  assured  them.  "There's  always  the  element  of  a 
gamble  in  mining,  I'm  sure,  though  I  don't  know  much 
about  it.  Your  mine  may  flush  out.  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll 
do — I'll  meet  you  on  a  half-way  basis.  I'll  sell  for  half 
price — fifty  cents  on  a  dollar.  Give  me  ten  thousand 
dollars  and  you  own  the  stock." 

They  stepped  aside  and  conferred. 

"I  suppose  you'll  be  in  town  a  few  days  longer!"  sug- 
gested the  mayor. 

"  If  I  can  get  out  of  here  to-night  I  want  to  go.    I  must 

go" 

"I  say  again,  we  don't  want  to  take  any  advantage  of 
you  because  you  are  obliged  to  leave  in  such  a  hurry. 
This  may  seem  like  queer  talk  for  business  men  to  make — 
to  offer  more  than  the  price  asked.  But  we  want  you  to 
remember  that  Breed  City  is  grateful." 

"I  really  am  not  asking  for  any  presents,"  I  said. 

274 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

That  was  jackass  talk  for  me  to  make,  and  I  knew  it. 
Lord!  we  needed  all  the  money  we  could  scrape.  But  a 
funny  sort  of  pride  swelled  up  in  me.  I  did  not  propose 
to  be  outdone  in  politeness.  Never  had  I  had  municipal 
attentions  shown  to  my  humble  self  before  I  came  to  Breed 
City.  They  did  not  realize  all  the  good  it  had  done  me. 

"This  is  no  proposition  of  that  sort,"  declared  the 
mayor.  "But  we  are  so  sure  of  Newell's  judgment  that 
we  know  we  shall  make  big  profits  on  this  stock.  There 
are  six  of  us.  We  propose  to  give  you  twelve  thousand 
dollars,  so  that  the  amount  you  have  paid  for  the  stock 
will  be  handed  back  to  you  also.  We'd  like  you  to  re- 
member that  Breed  City  was  good  to  you  to  the  extent 
of  ten  thousand  dollars'  clear  profit." 

That  asinine  pride  was  prompting  me  to  split  the  dif- 
ference with  them.  But  across  the  street  just  then  I  saw 
the  old  judge  peering  about,  evidently  in  a  panic  of 
anxiety  about  me  because  I  had  been  gone  so  long  with 
all  that  money.  Another  memory  jogged  me  at  that 
moment.  I  was  morally  bound  to  hand  Dodovah  Vose 
some  profit  on  his  five  hundred  dollars.  Haggling  with 
those  enthusiastic  citizens  of  Breed  would  be  feeding  my 
fool  pride  at  the  expense  of  two  old  men. 

"It's  a  trade,  gentlemen,  with  all  thanks  to  you!" 

The  mayor  was  president  of  the  bank  and  I  guess  the 
rest  were  directors;  at  any  rate,  the  cashier,  in  about  two 
minutes,  was  asking  me  how  I  would  have  it! 

I  asked  for  currency — big  bills.  I  had  a  boyish,  eager 
hankering  to  lug  the  money  to  the  judge,  to  show  it  to 
him,  to  have  him  count  it  and  feel  it  and  know  that  he 
could  face  the  taxpayers  of  Levant,  even  if  he  couldn't 
satisfy  all  his  creditors.  But  even  bankruptcy,  thought  I, 
was  not  State  prison;  my  uncle  would  be  cheated  out  of 
that  part  of  his  revenge.  My  fingers  itched  and  my  eyes 
shone  while  the  cashier  nipped  at  the  corners  of  the  bills 
with  moistened  fingers.  He  wrapped  them  in  oiled  paper 
and  I  sunk  them  carefully  in  my  clothes! 

275 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  made  as  quick  a  getaway  as  politeness  would  allow. 

As  I  remember  it,  I  left  a  promise  to  come  back  to 
Breed  City  and  settle  down! 

I  caught  Judge  Kingsley  by  the  arm  and  hurried  him 
down-street  and  into  the  hotel. 

The  moment  we  were  in  our  room  I  began  jamming 
packages  of  money  into  his  hands. 

"Look  at  it!  Feel  of  it!  Smell  of  it!"  I  urged.  "Judge, 
I  took  that  money  out  for  an  airing  and  the  junket  did 
it  lots  of  good." 

He  did  not  understand.  I  guess  he  thought  I'd  merely 
brought  back  the  Pratt  money  and  had  gone  crazy  while 
I  was  out  with  it, 

"There's  sixteen  thousand  dollars  net  and  clear  for 
us,  Judge  Kingsley!  And  I  reckon  we  won't  hunt  up 
Pratt  and  hand  back  the  thousand  that's  over  and  above 
his  graft  from  you.  He's  a  liberal  gentleman  and  he 
ought  to  be  willing  to  pay  our  expenses  and  for  wear  and 
tear.  Now  pack  up,  sir !"  I  clapped  him  on  the  shoulder. 
"I  can't  stop  to  tell  you  the  story  just  yet.  We'll  have 
it  on  the  way." 

I  began  to  pack  the  money  into  my  pockets. 

He  was  deathly  white  when  he  stood  up,  and  he  staggered 
against  the  wall. 

4 '  On  the  way !    Where  ?"  he  gasped. 

"Home!"  I  yelled,  frolicking  like  a  kid.  "Home!  And 
we've  got  to  make  a  race  of  it  if  we  propose  to  head 
Uncle  Deck  Sidney  under  the  wire  I" 

Ten  minutes  later  I  was  humping  around  Breed  City, 
trying  to  find  out  how  I  could  escape. 

The  stage  would  not  leave  till  morning.  And  that 
stage  would  take  us  to  Royal  City,  and  blamed  if  I  wanted 
to  go  through  Royal  City. 

I  knew  well  enough,  of  course,  that  Pratt  had  gone  back 
there  to  join  his  forces  and  I  could  hardly  hope  that  the 
forces  were  still  in  jail. 

On  the  new  railroad  which  they  were  building  into 

276 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

Breed  only  a  part  of  the  rails  were  down;  they  were  not 
operating  trains.  There  was  no  stage  line  through  the 
broken  country  in  that  direction. 

The  Buffalo  Hump  Mountains  were  to  the  south,  and  to 
the  east  the  Bitter  Root  range  raised  obstructions. 

I  had  the  judge  on  my  back,  as  it  were !  I  couldn't  wake 
him  up  to  what  had  happened.  He  appeared  to  be  men- 
tally and  physically  prostrated.  I  myself  could  have 
straddled  a  cayuse  and  ducked  out  over  the  broken  coun- 
try. But  the  judge  must  have  wheels  under  him  when  he 
was  moved. 

There  seemed  to  be  nothing  to  do  but  smash  through 
Royal  City,  taking  our  chances.  I  felt  that  the  citizens 
there  wouldn't  see  us  murdered  on  the  street,  but  they 
could  not  be  expected  to  go  along  and  guard  us  all  the 
way  home.  We  would  have  three  buzzards  on  our  trail! 

I  was  mighty  blue  and  some  scared.  I  was  wishing 
that  I  had  not  indulged  that  boyish  impulse  to  carry  my 
fortune  in  cash.  I  would  be  fine  picking  for  those  devils! 
Take  that  money  and  the  judge,  and  I  had  two  pretty 
heavy  parcels  to  tug  back  to  the  East.  The  dusk  came 
down  on  Breed  before  I  had  braced  myself  to  make  the 
jump. 

No,  there  was  nothing  else  to  it! 

In  order  to  catch  trains  and  get  to  Levant  ahead  of 
calamity  we  must  go  back  across  Callas  prairie  and  run 
the  gantlet  of  those  three  renegades. 

I  reckoned,  according  to  my  reading  of  time-tables, 
that  the  delay  of  even  one  day  would  bump  our  plans 
fatally. 

I  had  tried  several  times  to  find  my  friend,  Mr.  Wash 
Flye.  I  could  not  get  on  to  his  track  to  save  me.  I 
wanted  to  talk  transportation  with  him,  for  I  was  having 
a  mighty  discouraging  time  of  it  with  other  parties. 

There  were  four  public  stables  in  the  city,  so  I  found  by 
asking  questions.  I  tackled  the  biggest  one  first.  The 
man  in  the  office  was  pulling  off  hip  rubber  boots  with 

277 


WHERE   YOUR  TREASURE   IS 

the  air  of  one  who  has  decided  to  call  it  a  day.   He  laughed 
at  me  when  I  asked  for  a  horse. 

"My  friend,  every  cayuse  in  my  stable  that  can  walk, 
trot,  run,  or  limp,  or  even  can  cover  ground  by  rolling  over 
is  hired  and  has  either  started  for  the  Blacksnake  country 
where  that  new  strike  has  been  reported  or  else  is  going 
to  start  with  a  crazy  prospector  astraddle." 

I  offered  to  buy  a  horse.  He  said  that  he  didn't  do 
business  that  way — he  had  made  promises  and  would 
keep  them.  I  asked  for  names  of  men  who  had  hired.  I 
found  a  few  and  was  turned  down;  they  all  expected  to 
get  rich  if  they  could  get  to  Blacksnake. 

I  had  no  better  luck  at  the  other  stables. 

"Bright  Eyes"  had  made  me — it  looked  as  if  it  would 
also  unmake  me. 

"  You  can't  get  it  out  of  their  heads  in  these  parts  that 
first-comers  on  a  strike  ain't  due  to  be  millionaires,"  one 
man  told  me.  "If  you  want  a  hoss  you'll  have  to  car- 
penter together  a  new  one.  The  only  plugs  in  the  city 
that  haven't  been  nailed  by  prospectors  are  the  spare 
bosses  of  the  stage  company — and  old  Uncle  Sam's  mail 
keeps  his  thumb  down  hard  on  those  critters." 

Then  I  set  my  teeth  and  began  to  hunt  all  the  harder 
for  my  friend.  I  got  word  of  him  here  and  there,  but  an 
eel  in  a  dock  quicksand  could  not  have  been  more  of  a 
dodger.  It  was  evident  that  success  had  put  springs  into 
the  legs  and  restlessness  into  the  heart  of  this  new  Rocke- 
bilt  of  Breed  City.  The  trail  grew  hot — the  trail  grew 
cold.  It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  I  finally  caught  up 
with  him.  He  was  clinking  glasses  with  "Dirty-shirt" 
Maddox,  in  a  bar  down  an  alley  where  Breed  City's 
virtuous  ten-o'clock-closing  ordinance  could  be  more 
safely  violated. 

"I've  done  a  lot  for  you,  Mr.  Mann,  but  I  can't  monkey- 
doodle  with  the  company  bosses  at  this  time  o'  year 
when  the  mud  makes  double  work." 

I  drew  him  outdoors  and  down  the  alley. 

278 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

"I'm  meddling  with  another  man's  secret,  my  friend;, 
but  I'm  going  to  tell  you  enough  so  that  you'll  under- 
stand what  this  means  to  a  poor  old  man  and— and — 
a  girl  back  East." 

At  the  end  of  my  little  speech  the  driver  put  out  his-, 
wiry  hand. 

"If  I  didn't  do  my  part  to  help  you  in  this  job  I'd  have 
to  own  up  to  having  a  spavined  soul  and  a  heart  with 
wind-puffs  on  it.  Go  out  on  the  road  a  half-mile  and  I'll 
overtake  you  with  two  hosses  and  a  mud-cart." 

Before  midnight  our  little  expedition  was  well  started 
across  the  prairie.  The  cart  was  light,  the  crisp  air  of  the 
March  night  had  stiffened  the  mud,  and  we  naturally  made 
better  time  than  with  the  heavy  outfit  on  which  we  had 
ridden  to  Breed.  But  it  was  coming  dawn  when  we  got 
to  the  rim-rock  at  the  edge  of  Callas  prairie.  Far  below 
we  could  see  the  chimneys  of  Royal  City,  smoking  signals 
of  early  breakfasts. 

During  the  crawl  across  the  adobe  ruts,  under  the  stars, 
I  had  canvassed  with  the  driver  the  dangers  that  the 
presence  of  Pratt  and  his  associate  rogues  in  Royal  City 
held  for  two  gentlemen  who  desired  to  mind  their  own 
business  and  travel  East  by  that  first  train. 

"Friends,"  stated  the  driver,  after  he  had  meditated 
on  the  matter,  "I'm  going  to  drop  you  right  here  at  the 
rim-rock.  Just  over  there  is  the  mouth  of  a  path  that 
leads  down  the  side  of  the  canon  by  a  short  cut — it's  all 
of  two  miles  further  by  the  stage-road  where  you  came 
up.  The  path  doesn't  hit  the  stage-road  anywhere. 
Now  if  those  chaps  are  out  and  free  they'll  be  likely  to 
ram  across  to  Breed  by  this  morning's  stage.  They  want 
to  see  you  mighty  quick  and  what  the  mayor  said  to 
Pratt  won't  keep  'em  away,  I  reckon!  They  must  be 
reckless  by  now!  If  you  walk  down  the  path  you'll 
dodge  'em — for  the  stage  is  just  about  leaving.  There's 
an  old  feller  named  Mike  at  the  foot  of  the  path  who'll 
ferry  you.  You'll  have  a  full  hour  to  make  the  train. 
19  279 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

Take  your  time  down  the  path  so  that  you'll  be  sure  to 
miss  the  stage.  If  your  men  are  still  in  Royal  City — 
well,  if  I  was  in  your  place  I'd  take  that  train,  anyway, 
even  if  I  had  to  leave  orders  behind  for  the  funerals  and 
the  flowers." 

We  climbed  down  and  I  started  to  shove  my  hand  into 
my  pocket.  Mr.  Flye  threw  his  own  hand  to  his  hip. 

"Hands  up!"  he  called,  sharply.  "Don't  you  pull  that 
wallet!  When  a  chap  gets  rich  overnight  like  I've  done 
he's  pretty  touchy  when  a  friend  tries  to  put  favor  on 
a  cash  basis.  I  didn't  think  you'd  do  it,  Mr.  Mann." 

Tears  came  into  my  eyes. 

"Hands  up?  Yes,  hands  up  to  you,  good  friend,  both 
hands  up  to  you."  I  grabbed  the  driver's  fists  in  mine. 
"But  I  don't  understand  just  why  you  have  done  for  me 
all  that  you've  done." 

"I  reckon  I  smelled  out  by  sort  of  instinct  that  you 
was  giving  up  your  time,  doing  good  for  somebody  else," 
he  said,  with  a  nod  at  the  old  man.  "At  any  rate,  I  took 
to  you,  and  when  I  take  to  a  man  it's  all  of  a  sudden  and, 
doggone  it,  I  just  can't  help  giving  him  my  shirt — if  it's 
clean  enough  and  he'll  take  it." 

He  did  not  trust  himself  to  stay  any  longer.  He  lashed 
his  horses,  they  spun  around,  dragging  the  cart  on  two 
wheels,  and  away  the  outfit  went  across  the  prairie.  And 
I  never  saw  Wash  Flye  any  more ! 

I  hurried  along  and  the  old  man  found  the  path  too 
steep  for  conversation.  In  places  we  were  obliged  to 
cling  to  sloping  trees  and  ease  our  way  down. 

We  were  startled,  after  a  time,  by  the  sudden  appear- 
ance of  a  man  in  the  path  ahead.  He  was  climbing  with 
haste. 

"Well,  gents,"  he  called,  cheerily,  "you're  lucky  to  be 
coming  down  instead  of  going  up!  But  I  figured  that  I'd 
rather  climb  up  to  the  prairie  and  get  a  little  sunshine 
than  stay  down  there  and  wait  for  that  stage  to  get  fixed 
up." 

280 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

He  stopped  and  wiped  his  forehead. 

"What  about  the  stage?"  I  asked.  I  had  a  vision  of 
Dragg,  Dawlin,  and  Pratt  waiting  at  the  river  below  or 
lounging  in  the  streets  of  Royal  City,  blocking  our  path 
of  retreat. 

"Oh,  a  tire  came  off,  this  side  of  the  river,  and  the  rim 
caved  in.  They've  propped  up  the  old  caboose  and  sent 
the  wheel  back  to  the  blacksmith  shop.  You  ought  to 
have  heard  those  other  three  passengers  swear!  I've 
had  a  chance  to  hear  it  scientific  and  fancy  in  my  time — 
but  those  gents  certainly  could  hang  on  the  trimmings. 
Especially  the  fat  one!" 

"Fat  one!" 

"Yep!  Fat  man  with  a  suit  of  clothes  that  would  put 
the  eyesight  of  a  Potlatch  coyote  on  the  blink.  They 
seem  to  be  in  a  hurry.  They're  walking  up  this  hill,  too. 
Other  two  men  are  derricking  fat  man  up  the  trail.  Are 
making  some  talk  about  getting  a  rancher  to  set  'em 
across  Callas." 

He  clapped  on  his  hat  and  climbed  along. 

When  he  had  disappeared,  I  led  the  way  into  the  pine 
growth  at  the  side  of  the  trail,  and  we  found  a  boulder 
which  would  shield  the  two  of  us. 

Dragg  came  first — carrying  out  the  suggestion  of  his 
name  by  pulling  at  Mr.  Pratt  with  all  his  strength,  and 
Dawlin  pushed  behind.  They  halted  often  and  one  of 
their  stops  was  just  below  our  boulder.  They  were 
telling  each  other  what  they  proposed  to  do  to  a  certain 
person  who  wore  a  plug-hat. 

I  drew  the  two  guns  from  my  hip  pockets,  and  I  could 
feel  the  arm  of  the  judge  trembling  against  my  ribs. 

But  after  the  three  went  puffing  on  and  were  out  of 
sight,  I  dropped  the  weapons  into  a  crevice  between  the 
ledges. 

"No,  I  did  not  intend  to  shoot  them,"  I  said,  when 
Judge  Kingsley  asked  questions. 

We  hurried  on  down  the  trail. 

281 


WHERE   YOUR  TREASURE   IS 

"But  why  did  you  throw  away  those  two  good  revol- 
vers?" asked  the  thrifty  old  chap. 

"I  only  borrowed  them.  It  might  seem  like  stealing 
if  I  should  carry  them  back  East.  I  don't  like  to  have 
stolen  property  on  my  person,"  I  said. 

I  did  not  feel  like  talking.  That  remark  stopped 
further  conversation. 

We  caught  the  train! 


XXIV 

HOW  SWEET  IS  THE  HOME-COMING,   EH? 

MY  thoughts,  fears,  and  hopes  went  galloping  ahead 
of  me  during  that  ride  back  to  the  East.  It's  all 
a  blur  of  memory — wheat-fields,  prune-orchards,  tunnels, 
peaks,  and  prairies — and  the  old  judge  sitting  beside  me, 
twisting  his  withered  hands  and  cracking  his  bony 
knuckles.  It  was  lucky  for  both  of  us  that  the  slow  part 
of  the  journey  was  at  the  start  and  that  we  had  the 
clang  of  mile-a-minute  rails  under  us  for  the  last  two 
days  of  that  race. 

Well,  I  thought  the  thing  over.  It  was  just  as  much  of 
a  nightmare  then  as  it  seems  now  when  I  am  setting  it 
down. 

How  I  ever  undertook  such  a  crack-brained,  daredevil 
trip  and  hoped  for  anything  tangible  to  fall  to  me  by  such 
a  hundred-to-one  shot  I  do  not  understand  even  now  in 
clear  fashion,  in  spite  of  the  explanation  I  have  given. 
We  talk  about  hunches  in  this  world !  If  I  had  not  obeyed 
some  sort  of  suggestion  I  certainly  would  not  have  chased 
those  renegades.  Only  by  meeting  with  them  did  I  stand 
a  chance  of  recovering  any  money.  That  thought  and 
my  hankering  to  use  my  knowledge  about  the  Pratt- 
Dawlin  gang  influenced  me  a  great  deal,  I  suppose.  And 
the  conviction  that  I  couldn't  spin  a  thread  by  seeking 
money  in  any  other  way  pried  me  out  of  Levant,  of  course. 

I  have  had  something  to  say  about  the  force  of  cir- 
cumstances ! 

I  was  not  in  a  comfortable  frame  of  mind  at  all,  though 
the  money  in  my  pockets  should  have  given  me  consider- 

283 


WHERE   YOUR  TREASURE   IS 

able  cheer.  I  did  not  feel  that  it  was  my  money — any 
of  it.  I  could  not  make  it  seem  like  anything  which  be- 
longed to  me  or  convince  myself  that  I  had  earned  it.  I 
had  picked  a  man's  pocket  for  part  of  it  and  the  rest  of 
that  cash  had  been  jammed  into  my  pockets,  so  to  speak. 
I  was  not  wasting  a  moment's  time  on  questioning  the 
morality  of  any  of  my  acts.  I  reckoned  if  Pratt's  wallet 
had  been  stuffed  with  twice  as  much  I  would  have  kept 
the  plunder. 

I  pondered  on  another  point. 

Judge  Kingsley,  provided  we  got  under  the  wire  in 
season,  could  be  saved  from  the  charge  of  criminality, 
but  he  still  had  his  salvation,  financially,  to  work  out. 
He  needed  all  that  money  and  more — and  I  had  volun- 
teered— had  forced  myself  on  him  as  combination  courier 
and  savior.  It  was  all  settled  in  my  mind,  according  to 
my  private  code,  that  I  must  hand  over  the  cash. 

I  will  state  right  here  that  the  decision  I  had  come  to 
about  the  money  did  not  rasp  my  feelings  in  the  slightest. 
I  had  read  quite  a  few  story-books  in  my  time.  If  there 
was  ever  a  case  in  the  whole  realm  of  fact  and  fiction  where 
the  final  scene  would  show  loving  daughter  clasped  in 
adoring  lover's  arms,  and  a  benignant  father  raising  his 
hands  over  them  with  "Bless-you-my-children"  senti- 
ment, my  affair  seemed  to  be  triumphantly  of  that  sort. 
Time,  effort,  and  money — it  all  belonged  in  the  family! 

My  heart  glowed  and  my  eyes  grew  moist  and  it  was  a 
wonder  that  I  did  not  blurt  out  the  whole  thing  to  the 
judge — I  felt  so  sure  of  him ! 

However,  he  had  his  own  troubles  to  take  up  his  mind 
pretty  completely,  I  realized.  There  was  no  telling  what 
might  be  happening  back  home,  with  my  uncle  Deck 
stirring  things.  If  I  had  timed  trains  right,  and  nothing 
tipped  upside  down,  we  didn't  have  much  more  than  twen- 
ty-four hours'  leeway  in  Levant  ahead  of  that  town  meet- 
ing. I  asked  the  judge  if  the  town  notes  were  very 
widely  scattered,  and  he  told  me  they  were  not.  He  had 

284 


WHERE   YOUR  TREASURE   IS 

picked  special  parties  whom  he  could  depend  on  to  keep 
their  mouths  shut  about  their  investment,  and  he  felt 
pretty  sure  that  they  would  hand  back  the  notes  in 
exchange  for  cash  and  would  ask  no  questions  and  would 
keep  still  in  the  future. 

"But  I  can't  eat  and  I  can't  sleep,"  he  mourned,  "not 
till  I  have  those  papers  in  my  two  hands!"  He  put  up 
his  crooked  claws  and  worked  them.  "  In  my  hands — all 
torn  into  ribbons — and  then  into  the  fire!  Just  think  of 
it!"  He  croaked  the  words  and  shivered.  "Papers — 
only  a  few  papers!  Scattered  around  town.  Papers  with 
ink-marks!  Yet  they  can  send  me  to  State  prison!" 

No,  that  wasn't  the  time  to  talk  with  the  judge  about 
being  his  partner  or  his  son-in-law.  But  I  did  talk  more 
with  him  in  regard  to  plans  for  gathering  in  the  notes 
quietly  and  quickly  the  moment  we  struck  town.  I  had 
him  give  me  the  names  so  that  I  could  help  plan  the 
campaign. 

I  knew  them,  of  course.  They  were  old  tight-wads  of 
farmers  in  the  back  districts  who  would  endure  lighted 
candles  at  their  feet  for  a  long  time  before  they  would 
leak  any  information  about  their  money  matters;  there 
were  some  widows  and  old  maids  who  didn't  know  any- 
thing about  money  matters,  anyway.  The  judge  had 
picked  well,  I  had  to  admit  to  myself.  But  there  was  a 
lot  to  do,  a  mighty  short  time  to  do  it  in,  and  it  had  got 
to  be  done  with  the  delicate  touch  a  bashful  chap  would 
use  in  picking  a  rose-leaf  off  a  sleeping  schoolmarm's  cheek. 

Therefore,  this  was  my  suggestion  to  the  judge:  we'd 
slip  off  the  train  a  station  below  Levant  Corners,  hire  a 
hitch,  and  make  our  rounds  of  the  town's  creditors  in  the 
back-lots  before  we  showed  up  in  Levant  village. 

That's  what  we  did. 

The  lengthened  days  of  April  gave  us  a  full  hour  and 
a  half  of  sunlight  for  our  ride  on  our  quest.  Out  of 
cupboards  and  long  wallets  and  rosewood  boxes  the 
farmers  and  the  old  maids  dutifully  produced  their  town 

285 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

notes — "for  the  judge  had  called  on."  They  seemed  to 
believe  that  his  wish  to  call  in  the  notes  settled  the 
matter  beyond  all  question. 

He  became  once  more  his  dignified,  calm,  self-contained 
self,  though  I  could  see  that  it  was  only  by  exercise  of 
all  his  will  power. 

I  had  placed  packets  of  money  in  his  hands  and  he 
figured  interest  and  made  payments. 

The  first  man  with  whom  he  did  business  gave  the  judge 
his  cue  and  made  me  thank  the  good  Lord  that  I  had 
planted  that  seed  in  Dodovah  Vose! 

"You're  looking  better  than  I  have  ever  seen  you, 
Judge!  Younger,  too!  What  have  you  been  doing  to 
yourself  ?  Oh,  your  whiskers  are  cut  off !  Improves  you ! ' ' 

The  moment  we  had  struck  Spokane  I  bought  alcohol 
and  stripped  that  grotesque  mustache  from  the  judge's 
face.  In  spite  of  his  haggard  countenance,  he  did  look 
younger. 

"It's  said  around  town,"  proceeded  Farmer  Bailey — 
&nd  I  held  my  breath  and  did  not  dare  to  look  at  Judge 
Kingsley — "that  you've  just  cleaned  up  a  lot  of  money 
in  a  big  deal.  Dod  Vose  has  given  out  first  news !  We're 
all  glad  of  it  because  we  have  always  looked  up  to  you  as 
a  financier." 

The  judge  nodded  stiffly  in  acknowledgment  of  the 
compliment. 

"And  I  suppose  he  has  made  you  rich,  too,  young 
Sidney,  taking  you  under  his  wing  like  he  has,"  suggested 
the  farmer,  with  a  wink.  "Your  uncle  is  giving  you  a 
black  eye  for  deserting  the  family — like  he  done  the  first 
time  you  left  town — but  I  guess  you  haven't  made  any 
mistake  by  grabbing  in  with  Judge  Kingsley." 

"I'm  quite  sure  of  that,"  I  told  Farmer  Bailey. 

"I  hate  to  take  this  money,  Judge,"  said  the  farmer. 
"It's  been  safe  with  you.  I  ain't  a  financier  like  you  be. 
It  hasn't  been  taxed.  You  bet  I  have  kept  my  mouth 
shut!" 

286 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

"It's  only  to  clear  up  town  business  on  account  of  the 
special  meeting  which  has  been  called  for  to-morrow," 
stated  the  judge.  "I  am  glad  to  hear  you  have  kept  the 
matter  private.  I  merely  tried  to  help  a  few  of  my  friends. 
And  I  suggest  that  you  say  nothing  about  having  received 
this  money  or  that  you  have  surrendered  a  town  note. 
There  are  disturbers  in  town  who  threaten  a  high  tax- 
rate." 

"It's  Deck  Sidney,  thrashing  around  to  make  a  big 
show  of  his  authority,  now  that  he  is  selectman,"  the 
farmer  grumbled.  "He  ain't  being  backed  up  by  the 
people,  I  can  tell  you  that !  It's  all  right  to  be  enterprising, 
but  he  is  too  cussed  much  so.  He  was  around  here  the 
other  day,  trying  to  nose  out  whether  I  held  a  town  note 
or  not!"  I  felt  a  thrill  of  fear  and  the  judge  grew  visibly 
paler.  "Yes,  he  hung  on  and  coaxed  and  threatened  and 
argued.  But  I  knew  what  he  was  up  to!" 

He  winked  at  the  shrinking  judge. 

"He  said  if  I  didn't  bring  my  town  note  into  the  meet- 
ing I'd  never  be  able  to  collect." 

"How  did  he  know  you  held  a  town  note?"  croaked  the 
judge. 

"He  didn't  know!  He  was  round  town  guessing.  I 
never  let  on.  I  knew  he  wasn't  any  financier.  I  knew 
that  you'd  protect  me,  no  matter  what  Deck  Sidney 
might  say.  I  smelled  him  out,  all  right !  He  thinks  he  is 
running  this  town  and  he  tried  to  bamboozle  me  so  that 
he  could  find  some  more  property  to  tax.  I  reckon  we'll 
show  him  where  he  belongs  when  it  comes  to  next  annual 
meeting.  He's  getting  altogether  too  big  for  his  britches!" 

We  learned  much  more  about  my  uncle's  recent  activi- 
ties before  we  finished  our  ride.  Evidently,  when  he  had 
held  his  nose  in  the  air  he  had  sniffed  town  notes;  but  when 
he  had  set  his  nose  to  the  ground  and  had  tried  to  run 
those  notes  to  their  lairs  he  had  failed.  At  any  rate,  the 
holders  protested  to  the  judge  that  they  had  not  dropped 
one  word — all  of  them  suspecting  that  my  uncle  was 

287 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

merely  digging  out  property  to  tax.  The  resentful  farmers 
had  replied  to  his  anathema  with  some  of  their  own  and 
the  frightened  old  maids  had  been  too  scared  to  say  any- 
thing to  him.  We  heard  enough  to  know  that  he  had 
traveled  more  or  less  by  guesswork,  and  had  made  his 
quest  general,  hoping  to  corner  somebody  by  chance.  If 
we  could  believe  the  protestations  of  the  parties  concerned, 
Judge  Kingsley's  defenses  still  presented  a  fair  front  to 
the  world. 

At  last,  before  the  evening  was  old,  the  judge  had  taken 
into  his  hands  the  last  note. 

Then  we  ordered  our  driver  to  hurry  us  to  the  village. 

"Mr.  Sidney,"  said  the  judge,  when  he  had  paid  the 
driver  and  stood  in  the  shadows  at  the  edge  of  the  square, 
"this  is  not  the  time  to  talk  over  our  affairs,  but  I  do  want 
you  to  step  into  my  office  for  a  few  moments." 

He  led  the  way. 

The  big  house  was  dark  and  a  queer  kind  of  a  shiver 
ran  through  me  when  I  looked  at  it. 

"The  devil  must  have  had  me  in  his  clutch  all  these 
days,"  muttered  the  judge.  "I  have  been  worse  than  a 
lunatic.  Not  a  word  from  me  to  my  poor  folks  at  home!" 

To  tell  the  truth,  I  had  not  been  giving  much  thought 
to  our  remissness  in  that  duty.  I  have  never  been  much 
of  a  letter-writer  in  my  life — I  had  been  so  long  without 
folks  who  cared  to  hear  from  me  that  the  matter  of  keep- 
ing anybody  posted  on  my  whereabouts  never  came  into 
my  mind.  To  be  sure,  I  had  Celene  Kingsley  in  my  mind 
all  the  time,  even  in  the  stress  of  our  adventures,  but  I 
had  not  presumed  to  write  to  her.  During  our  travels  it 
had  not  occurred  to  me  that  it  was  any  part  of  my  busi- 
ness to  prompt  Judge  Kingsley  in  any  of  his  family  affairs. 
But  now  that  we  were  back,  in  front  of  that  gloomy 
house,  I  realized  just  how  brutal  the  whole  thing  was. 

The  judge  went  to  his  office  door  and  his  hand  trembled 
so  violently  that  the  key  clattered  all  around  the  hole; 
what  with  the  darkness  and  his  agitation,  he  could  not 

288 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

unlock  the  door,  and  I  did  it  for  him,  gently  taking  the 
key  from  his  hand. 

I  lighted  his  lamp  when  we  were  within.  We  stood 
there  for  a  few  moments  and  looked  at  each  other. 

"It's  so  still!"  he  mumbled.  "It  seems  early  for  them 
to  be  in  bed." 

"But  your  folks  must  be  all  right,"  I  ventured.  "If 
there  was  anything  wrong  we  would  have  heard  about  it 
while  we  have  been  riding  about  town." 

"Probably!  Probably!"  His  voice  quavered  and  he 
was  all  a-tremble.  "But  it  seems  so  still!" 

He  sat  down  at  his  table  and  pulled  out  the  notes  he 
had  been  gathering. 

"You  are  entitled  to  look  on,  Mr.  Sidney!  I  wanted 
you  to  see  me  do  it.  I  don't  just  understand  all  the 
reasons  yet  why  you  have  helped  me  as  you  have.  We 
will  talk  about  that  some  day  when  my  head  is  clearer. 
It's  all  a  dream — a  dream — a  dream — so  it  seems  now." 
He  sort  of  maundered  along  in  his  talk.  He  did  not  seem 
to  be  at  all  sure  of  himself.  If  the  thought  did  come  to 
me  with  any  force  that  then  was  a  good  time  to  tell  him 
why  I  had  volunteered  as  I  had  done,  I  put  the  idea  away 
when  I  looked  at  him. 

He  dumped  papers  out  of  a  tin  tray  which  stood  on 
the  table.  He  piled  the  notes  in  the  tray. 

"Touch  a  match  to  them,  sir,"  he  told  me.  "You  are 
entitled  to  do  it.  We  will  watch  them  burn.  I  signed 
them  as  town  treasurer.  One  of  them  would  put  me  into 
prison.  Hurry!  Set  the  match  to  them!"  And  I  obeyed. 

Then,  almost  before  the  red  embers  were  dark,  he  dove 
his  hands  into  the  ashes  of  the  papers  and  scruffed  them 
about  and  out  of  him  came  the  most  dreadful  cackle  of 
laughter  I  ever  heard. 

I  was  anxious  to  end  that  scene  as  quickly  as  I  could. 
I  pulled  a  packet  from  my  coat  and  laid  it  on  the  table; 
I  tapped  my  finger  on  it  to  get  his  attention. 

"Here  is  something  I  have  held  out,  Judge  Kingsley," 

289 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  informed  him.  "There's  a  thousand  dollars  tied  up 
in  this  paper.  Five  hundred  of  it  I  accepted  from  Dodo- 
vah  Vose,  agreeing  to  put  him  in  right  in  our  speculation. 
I  took  it  when  I  started  West." 

In  spite  of  his  emotion  the  old  judge's  business  sense 
flared  just  as  the  fire  had  flared  in  the  tray  a  moment  before. 

"But  there  was  no  speculation — there  was  no  business 
deal!  Why  did  you  take  money  in  that  way?" 

"I  had  special  reasons  of  my  own,  sir." 

"But  you  had  no  right — it  was  a  private  affair — it — " 

"And  I  also  had  reasons  of  your  own  to  consider,  sir," 
I  broke  in.  "Mr.  Vose  asked  me  to  invest  for  him.  I 
wanted  your  name  to  stand  well  after  we  were  gone.  I  was 
under  obligations  to  Mr.  Vose  and  when  I  told  him  we 
had  a  big  deal  on  I  could  give  him  no  good  reason  why  I 
would  not  turn  a  little  profit  his  way.  That's  why  the 
man  Bailey  is  so  sure  that  your  credit  is  now  good.  You'll 
find  that  the  news  has  gone  all  about  the  section — " 

"They'll  be  jumping  on  me  for  the  money  I  owe!" 
snarled  the  judge.  "  Vose  has  ruined  me  if  he  has  bragged. 
You  have — " 

"Just  a  moment,  sir,  before  you  say  something  you'll 
be  sorry  for.  It's  just  the  other  way,  I'll  warrant!  Men 
will  bring  more  money  to  you.  You  can  be  shrewd  and 
work  out  of  your  troubles.  Your  credit  is  established. 
I  made  a  &ood  play  when  I  did  it." 

"You  say  there's  a  thousand  dollars  in  that  envelope?" 

"Yes,  sir!  I  have  handed  the  other  packets  to  you.  I 
propose  to  give  Mr.  Vose  five  hundred  dollars  profit — 
and  after  I  have  done  that  you'll  get  the  best  advertising 
you  ever  had.  They'll  rate  you  mighty  high  in  these 
parts.  Five  hundred  is  a  cheap  price  for  what  you'll  get." 

"But  I  need  every  cent  just  now  to  tide  me  over,"  he 
whined.  "You  are  throwing  money  away  recklessly. 
Vose  can  be  taken  care  of  some  time.  Give  him  his  own 
five  hundred — or — or — say  it  has  been  invested  for  him. 
I  will  attend  to  his  case  later." 

290 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

And  do  you  know  what  that  old  rhinoceros  did?  He 
reached  out  his  paw  to  take  that  packet.  I  had  to  pound 
my  fist  on  his  fingers  to  make  him  let  go. 

He  stood  up  and  called  me  names — said  that  I  was 
taking  money  he  needed.  I  suppose  I  ought  to  have  made 
allowances  for  the  state  of  mind  he  was  in — his  fears — 
his  weakness  of  old  age — his  dreadful  anxiety  which  still 
goaded  him. 

But  I  was  in  a  bad  way,  myself,  and  I  could  not  pardon 
that  selfishness. 

"Confound  you,"  I  yelled,  "I  have  a  mind  to  back  you 
against  the  wall  and  strip  every  dollar  out  of  your 
pockets!" 

And  then  we  heard  a  noise  and  we  turned  around,  and 
there  stood  Celene  Kingsley  looking  at  us — looking  at 
me  especially  with  hatred  and  horror. 

"Father!"  she  cried.  "Shall  I  run  and  call  help?  He 
is  robbing  you!" 

I  certainly  could  not  say  a  word  just  then,  and  the 
judge  sat  down  and  gasped  and  gaped  at  her. 

She  came  into  the  room.  She  was  white  and  pale  and 
thin,  but  she  was  no  shrinking  and  anguished  maiden. 
She  was  showing  the  female's  ferocity  in  guarding  her  own. 

"I  heard  you!  Confessing  that  you're  a  robber  out  of 
your  own  mouth!  Where  have  you  been  with  my  poor 
father?  What  devilish  spell  have  you  put  on  him — you 
and  the  rest  of  your  gang?" 

She  turned  away  from  me. 

"Father,  don't  you  realize  that  you  have  come  home 
when  it  is  too  late?  Oh,  God  in  heaven,  why  did  you  not 
break  away  from  those  rogues  and  come  home — or  write 
so  that  we  could  ransom  you?  I  know.  They  have  kept 
you  a  prisoner!" 

"Too  late?"  he  looked  at  his  office  safe.  I  knew  what 
he  was  afraid  of.  "Too  late?" 

She  began  to  sob.    " It  has  killed  mother!" 

He  got  up  and  staggered  to  her  and  took  her  in  his  arms. 

291 


WHERE   YOUR  TREASURE    IS 

"Your  mother  dead?" 

" It's  worse  than  that!  It's  her  mind — it  has  gone,  and 
her  body  is  following.  She  hasn't  known  me  for  days. 
She  lies  there  dying." 

I  was  shocked,  but  I  must  confess  I  did  not  feel  like  a 
murderer.  Mrs.  Kingsley  had  been  ill  when  we  went 
away — she  had  so  declared  in  my  hearing. 

"Miss  Kingsley,"  I  put  in,  "I'm  sorry,  but  your  father 
and  I—" 

Her  tears  ceased  and  she  turned  on  me  in  a  fury.  I 
knew  something  about  the  Kingsley  disposition,  but  I 
did  not  know  before  that  she  had  so  much  of  it  in  her. 

"Sorry!  You  sorry?  I  know  about  you,  you  miserable 
low-lived  wretch!  I  have  been  hunting  for  my  father. 
Do  you  think  I  would  look  down  on  my  dying  mother  and 
not  spend  every  cent  I  had  in  trying  to  find  where  you 
had  taken  him?  My  detectives  have  been  on  that  trail 
you  left  in  the  city!" 

Able  detectives!  On  the  cold  and  easy  trail  instead  of 
nosing  on  the  warm  one! 

"But  please  listen  to  me — " 

"To  more  of  your  lies?  No!  I  know  you  for  what  you 
are — hiding  from  the  police  in  the  city — coming  back  here 
to  finish  the  ruin  of  my  innocent  father  after  your  friends 
had  been  sent  here  by  you  to  rob  him.  You  don't  dare 
to  deny  what  you  have  been  in  the  city!  Your  face  con- 
victs you!" 

I  was  perfectly  conscious  that  I  was  not  presenting 
any  lamb-like  picture  of  innocence.  She  certainly  had 
me  on  the  run  when  she  burst  out  with  that  exposure  of 
my  city  record.  But  I  did  not  propose  to  lie  down  and 
stick  up  my  feet  like  a  calf  ticketed  for  the  butcher. 

"Miss  Kingsley,"  I  said,  slapping  the  packet  of  money 
across  my  palm — and  that  was  a  poor  tool  to  use  for 
emphasis  after  she  had  heard  my  talk  to  her  father,  "you 
must  listen — " 

"I  have  been  listening  just  now!  I  heard  you  threaten 

292 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

to  strip  my  poor  father  of  every  cent  he  has  in  the  world ! 
Do  you  deny  you  said  it?" 

"No,  but— " 

"Do  you  deny  that  you  have  been  the  sort  of  a  man  I 
have  said  you  were?" 

She  rushed  at  me,  her  hands  like  claws.  I  was  reminded 
of  a  sight  I  had  witnessed  in  boyhood — a  shrieking 
meadow-thrush  defending  her  nest  against  a  sneaking 
snake. 

I  looked  past  her  toward  the  judge.  I  did  hope  he  would 
say  something,  even  though  I  did  not  expect  that  he  would 
come  out  with  the  whole  truth.  Honestly,  I  would  have 
stopped  him  short  if  he  had  started  to  confess  to  her  any- 
thing about  the  real  reason  why  I  was  mixed  into  his 
affairs.  Had  not  the  whole  expedition  been  planned  so 
that  the  women  folks  would  not  know? 

Nevertheless,  a  decent  man  in  his  right  senses  could 
have  made  some  sort  of  talk  to  help  me  out.  But  it  was 
plain  enough  that  Judge  Kingsley  was  not  in  his  right 
senses — he  did  not  seem  to  have  much  of  any  sense  left 
in  him;  he  was  doddering  around  the  room,  twisting  his 
hands  and  accusing  himself  of  having  killed  his  wife. 

"Please  listen,"  I  implored.  "You  have  heard  only 
one  side — " 

"I  will  not  listen!  You,  your  uncle,  the  renegades  you 
associate  with,  you  have  tried  to  ruin  my  father.  You 
weren't  even  decent  enough  to  be  an  open  enemy — you 
came  sneaking  into  our  home  to  lie  to  us  and  deceive  us." 

"By  the  gods,"  I  shouted,  "you  will  listen  to  me!  I 
don't  propose  to  be  kicked  around  from  pillar  to  post  all 
my  life.  I  am  the  best  friend  the  Kingsley  family  ever 
had.  If  your  father  doesn't  tell  you  so,  I  will.  Judge 
Kingsley,  why  don't  you  be  a  man?" 

But  he  gave  me  a  fishy  look  and  went  on  lamenting. 

She  started  for  the  door.  "There  are  honest  men  in 
this  village — I'm  going  to  call  them!" 

But  I  got  to  the  door  ahead  of  her. 

293 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"There's  another  time  coming — a  better  time  for  an 
explanation — and  you'll  be  the  sorriest  girl  in  the  world." 

"I  can  never  be  as  sorry  as  I  am  now — sorry  and 
ashamed !  To  think  that  I  ever  put  confidence  in  a  creat- 
ure by  the  name  of  Sidney!" 

What  a  glorious  home-coming  for  the  paragon  of  self- 
sacrifice  ! 

I  walked  around  the  square  half  a  dozen  times  before 
I  dared  to  go  into  the  tavern.  I  don't  know  how  I  ever 
got  through  that  interview  with  Dodovah  Vose  without 
betraying  my  state  of  mind,  but  I  managed  it  and  ex- 
cused my  peculiarity  by  saying  that  I  was  all  worn  out  by 
my  trip.  And  he  had  too  much  on  his  own  mind  in  a  few 
minutes  to  pay  special  attention  to  me,  for  I  handed  him 
one  thousand  dollars  and  went  up  to  my  room  without 
bothering  to  contradict  his  excited  guessings  that  the 
judge  and  I  had  cleaned  up  a  fortune.  Kingsley,  I  re- 
flected, might  as  well  have  the  benefit  of  the  guessing. 
And,  it  must  be  known,  hope  was  not  dead  in  me  in  spite 
of  my  agony. 

Something  else  was  very  much  alive  in  me.  Blackleg, 
eh?  Flashy  rogue!  Barker  for  gamblers! 

I  took  off  that  plug-hat,  held  it  in  both  hands,  and  put 
my  foot  through  the  crown;  then  I  kicked  it  all  around  the 
room.  I  stripped  off  that  frock-coat,  grabbed  the  tails 
and  ripped  it  into  two  parts. 

Then  I  went  to  the  closet  and  surveyed  that  ready-made 
suit  and  the  billycock  hat  with  content. 

In  the  morning  I  would  be  Ross  Sidney,  professional 
diver,  ready  to  go  back  on  the  job  if  there  was  any  such 
thing  as  a  job  for  me  in  all  the  world.  I  hoped  I  would 
be  sane  once  more  when  I  opened  my  eyes  on  a  new  day. 
I  yanked  that  fancy  waistcoat  into  ribbons,  threw  the 
pearl-gray  trousers  under  the  bed,  and  hurried  to  go  to 
sleep  so  that  I  would  not  become  completely  crazy  before 
I  could  forget  my  troubles. 


XXV 

GRATITUDE! 

nPHERE  surely  is  a  lot  in  this  conscious-virtue  notion ! 
1  I  had  plenty  of  the  quality  next  morning. 

Things  seemed  brighter.  I  felt  like  myself  once  more. 
It  was  inconceivable  that  the  horrible  misunderstanding 
between  Celene  Kingsley  and  myself  could  continue  very 
long;  I  was  ready  to  make  confession  as  to  my  temporary 
lunacy  in  the  city,  and  my  new  optimism  encouraged  me  to 
believe  that  she  would  find  excuse  for  me.  At  any  rate, 
I  was  soon  assured  that  whatever  she  had  learned  from 
that  detective,  whoever  he  was,  she  had  kept  it  to  her- 
self. From  that  reticence  I  drew  excellent  augury  that  she 
was  not  out  to  ruin  me.  If  she  had  opened  her  mouth 
about  my  past  I  would  have  known  it  the  moment 
I  stepped  out  on  the  street  in  Levant.  But  every  person 
I  met  ducked  polite  salute,  and  I  met  many  persons  be- 
cause the  village  was  full  on  account  of  the  town  meeting. 

At  ten  o'clock  the  town  hall  was  crowded  and  in  a  short 
time  the  cut-and-dried  preliminaries  were  over. 

My  uncle  was  with  his  associates  on  the  platform,  and 
the  stare  he  gave  me  when  he  caught  my  eyes  was  so 
demoniac  that  I  was  careful  not  to  look  his  way  again  for 
some  time. 

There  was  evidence  of  strained  anticipation  everywhere 
in  the  gathering.  I  heard  voters  whispering  that  Deck 
Sidney  proposed  to  spring  something.  But  nobody,  ac- 
cording to  what  I  could  hear,  presumed  to  put  in  words 
what  they  guessed. 

My  uncle  was  masking  his  personal  batteries,  I  saw. 
20  29S 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

An  unemotional  lawyer  explained  the  purpose  of  the 
meeting,  and  then  the  moderator  called  on  Judge  Kingsley, 
as  town  treasurer,  to  give  the  financial  standing  of  the 
town. 

Uncle  Deck  fairly  bored  the  judge  with  his  gaze  when 
the  old  man  walked  to  the  platform  and  I  was  as  intent 
with  my  scrutiny,  for  I  was  wondering  how  Kingsley  would 
get  through  with  it.  He  was  white  and  somewhat  shaky, 
but  he  was  the  same  old  cold  proposition  when  he  faced 
the  voters. 

"  I  hope  you  will  pardon  a  word  on  a  personal  matter," 
he  said,  as  he  unfolded  his  papers;  "but  I  have  returned 
from  a  business  trip  and  find  serious  illness  in  my  family. 
I  have  been  keeping  watch  at  the  bedside  of  my  dear  wife 
and  my  thoughts  are  not  clear  enough  to  enable  me  to 
make  the  little  address  I  had  contemplated  for  to-day.  I 
will  only  say  that  the  movement  to  clear  the  town  of  its 
debt  is  very  praiseworthy  and  my  report  will  show  that  the 
thing  may  be  done  with  a  little  extra  effort.  Our  only 
considerable  indebtedness  consists  of  town  bonds  amount- 
ing to  eight  thousand  dollars  and  current  items  as  fol- 
lows." Then  he  went  on  to  give  the  list  of  unpaid  town 
orders,  of  which  only  a  few  were  extant.  "I  see  here 
representatives  of  the  bondholders,"  he  added,  "who  will 
check  my  figures  if  such  assurance  is  required  by  any 
voter — and  probably  most  of  the  parties  who  hold  town 
orders  are  in  the  meeting.  I  hope  the  town  orders  will 
be  presented  for  payment  at  once  so  that  there  may  be 
no  floating  indebtedness."  He  folded  up  his  papers. 

My  uncle  got  up  and  stamped  down  his  trousers  legs. 

"Now,  you  voters,"  he  called,  "ask  your  questions!" 

But  not  a  voice  was  raised. 

"I'm  no  lawyer  and  I'm  making  no  threats,"  my  uncle 
went  on.  "  But  after  the  way  this  meeting  has  been  ad- 
vertised, and  after  the  call  that  has  been  made,  I  reckon 
that  the  men  who  have  been  holding  out  claims  against 
this  town  and  who  haven't  presented  them  will  be  left  to 

296 


whistle  for  their  money.     I  propose  to  have  action  taken 
that  will  outlaw  those  claims." 

Judge  Kingsley  turned  slowly  on  my  uncle  and  stood  as 
stiff  as  a  stake. 

"To  what  claims  do  you  refer,  Selectman  Sidney?  Do 
you  question  the  accuracy  of  my  report?" 

"Come  out  of  your  holes,  you  old  woodchucks!" 
shouted  Uncle  Deck,  looking  past  the  judge  at  the  voters. 
Men  scowled  at  him  and  grumbled. 

The  judge  walked  toward  the  First  Selectman  and 
shook  his  papers. 

"You  must  talk  to  me,  sir!  I  am  the  treasurer  of  this 
town  and  have  been  for  a  good  many  years.  Here  before 
the  voters  I  demand  that  you  specify  claims." 

"I'll  specify,  then!  How  about  the  town  notes  that 
are  out  with  your  name  on  them?" 

A  murmur  ran  through  the  assemblage. 

"Just  one  moment,  sir!  Weigh  your  words,"  warned 
the  judge.  "You  are  attacking  my  financial  reputation; 
there  is  a  law  for  slanderers  and  I  have  many  witnesses 
here.  Do  you  say  there  is  one  single  town  note  extant 
with  my  name  on  it?" 

"I  say  there  are  a  lot  of  'em!" 

This  time  many  voters  raised  voices  of  protest  and  there 
were  hisses. 

"That's  the  thanks  a  straight  man  gets  for  trying  to 
protect  his  town  against  a  thief,  eh?"  raged  my  uncle,  his 
ready  temper  bursting  loose. 

"If  the  judge  don't  collect  fifty  thousand  dollars  dam- 
ages for  this,  then  I'm  no  guesser,"  declared  Dodovah 
Vose,  who  sat  beside  me. 

Uncle  Deck  tramped  to  the  edge  of  the  platform  and 
with  wagging  finger  selected  a  man  in  the  throng;  the 
man  was  Farmer  Bailey. 

"Bailey,  you  hold  a  town  note  with  Kingsley 's  name 
on  it !  You  know  you  do !  Are  you  going  to  sit  there  and 
see  it  canceled  as  no  good  by  the  vote  of  this  town?" 

297 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

Bailey  rose  slowly  and  everybody  listened  in  deep 
silence. 

"I  hold  no  note  of  any  kind  with  Judge  Kingsley's 
name  on  it." 

"Yah-h-h!  You  have  told  me  that  before.  But  you 
don't  dare  to  stand  here  in  town  meeting  and  say  it  under 
oath." 

"Send  down  that  Bible  on  the  stand  and  I'll  take  oath 
and  kiss  the  Book,"  offered  Bailey.  There  was  applause 
and  the  judge  quieted  it  by  raising  his  hand. 

"  I  will  pay  double  for  any  note  with  my  name  on  it  as 
treasurer,  and  I  will  turn  the  money  over  to  the  town  as 
a  gift,"  he  said. 

I  despised  him  when  he  made  that  bluff,  though  of 
course  he  had  to  do  it.  Really,  in  spite  of  his  devilish 
temper  and  his  spirit  of  revenge  my  uncle  was  twice  the 
man  Judge  Kingsley  was  in  that  moment.  I  wasn't 
trying  to  figure  out  the  righteousness  of  the  thing  on  either 
side;  the  judge  was  fighting  for  his  very  life,  as  well  as 
his  standing,  and  my  uncle,  though  he  was  working  for 
the  good  of 'the  town  according  to  his  lights,  was  satisfy- 
ing his  old  grudge — the  real  passion  of  his  life. 

A  voter  rose  and  bellowed  until  he  secured  silence; 
they  were  giving  the  judge  an  ovation. 

"I  want  to  put  in  a  word  here,  fellow-townsmen! 
Money  has  been  borrowed  on  town  notes.  A  certain 
eminent  man  you  all  know  tried  to  borrow  from  me  and 
said  I  could  escape  taxation.  And  now  he  is  backed  by 
the  liars — " 

"And  barked  at  by  the  liars,  too,"  yelled  another  man. 

"I  stand  up  here  for  Selectman  Sidney,  who  has 
given  his  time  and  effort  to  help  this  town  out  of  the 
clutches — " 

They  howled  him  down.  But  by  this  time  the  defend- 
ers of  my  uncle  were  howling,  too. 

"This  meeting  is  going  to  break  up  in  a  free  fight  if  a 
Stop  isn't  put  to  this  jawing,"  said  Dodovah  Vose.  He, 

298 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

jumped  up  on  the  settee  and  made  himself  heard.     "I 
move  we  adjourn!" 

The    apprehensive    moderator    put    the   motion,    the 
judge's  friends  carried  it,  and  the  meeting  was  dissolved. 
My  uncle  leaped  off  the  platform  and  came  raging  at 
me  through  the  crowd. 

"It's  you — you  damnation  imp  of  Gehenna!  Racing 
and  chasing  over  this  town  yesterday !  I  had  a  line  on  you. 
Saving  that  old  whelp  from  what  was  coming  to  him!" 
He  put  his  hands  over  his  head  and  wriggled  his  fingers. 
"God!  I  don't  know  what  you  have  done — you  got  that 
money  by  robbing  a  bank,  probably.  But  you  have  done 
it — you  have  jumped  up  and  down  on  your  family !  You 
have  got  to  answer  to  me!" 

Men  pushed  away  in  panic  and  left  us  in  a  ring.  But 
I  had  no  notion  of  entertaining  the  old  goggle-eyes  of 
Levant  by  fisticuffs  with  my  uncle.  I  folded  my  arms. 

"According  to  your  reckoning,   Uncle  Deck,   I  have 
owed  you  something  for  a  long  time.     I  want  to  stand 
square  with  you!    Go  ahead  and  collect!" 
He  did  not  seem  to  understand  at  once. 
"Go  ahead  and  beat  me  up!    I  won't  raise  a  finger." 
Yes,  I  would  have  taken  the  beating — I  knew  inside  of 
me  that  I  did  owe  my  uncle  something  of  the  sort. 

"Not  by  a  dam-site,  he  sha'n't  beat  you  up,"  de- 
clared Dodovah  Vose.  "I  saved  you  from  him  once," 
he  said,  careless  of  revelations,  "and  I'll  save  you 
again." 

So,  after  waiting  a  minute  and  enduring  my  uncle's 
tongue  instead  of  his  fists,  I  went  away  with  Landlord 
Vose. 

I  was  not  in  the  mood  for  any  further  paltering  or 
palavering  in  regard  to  my  personal  and  private  standing 
with  the  Kingsley  family.  I  had  a  collection  to  make  and 
I  proposed  to  go  and  make  it.  I  ought  to  have  known 
better  than  to  force  the  issue  at  that  time.  But  youth 
is  headstrong,  the  sense  of  my  injuries  was  hot,  and  I  felt 

299 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

that  if  ever  the  judge  might  be  willing  to  show  his  grati- 
tude that  would  be  the  time. 

He  was  crossing  the  square  on  his  way  home  and  I  left 
Mr.  Vose  and  hurried  after.  I  caught  up  with  him  at  the 
front  door. 

"  I  want  to  come  in  and  have  a  word  with  you  and  with 
your  daughter,"  I  told  him. 

"Impossible,"  he  said,  curtly.  "I'm  afraid  my  wife  is 
at  death's  door.  And  my  daughter — she  is  very  bitter!" 

"I  propose  to  have  you  explain  enough  so  that  she  will 
not  be  bitter,  sir.  It's  my  due.  You  know  what  kind  of 
a  service  I  have  rendered.  I  have  made  an  enemy  of  my 
uncle — ruined  all  my  prospects  to  help  you.  There  are 
things  you  can  tell  your  daughter  to — " 

"  How  does  my  daughter  enter  into  any  affairs  between 
you  and  myself?  You  must  let  me  alone  in  my  sorrow. 
Later  I  will  pay  you  for  your  services.  I  am  grateful. 
If  I  were  not  in  such  distress  I  would  explain  how  grateful 
I  am.  I  will  pray  that  I  may  be  spared  till  I  can  pay  back 
to  you  what  I  owe." 

"Good  Caesar!  I  don't  want  your  money,  Judge  Kings- 
ley.  I'll  work  and  earn  more  to  help  you  out  of  your 
difficulties.  I  only  ask  you  to  be  a  man  and  make  your 
daughter  understand — " 

"My  daughter  again!    You  don't  presume — " 

"I  do  presume,  sir.  She  was  kind  to  me  until  this 
horrible  misunderstanding  came  up.  I  expect  you  to  tell 
her  that  I  am  your  best  friend.  It's  my  right!" 

I'll  never  forget  the  look  he  gave  me.  I'll  wager  a  good 
bit  that  the  idea  of  such  enormity  on  my  part  never 
came  into  his  Kingsley  consciousness  till  that  moment. 
Even  then  he  did  not  seem  to  be  just  sure  that  he  under- 
stood. 

"I  don't  expect  anything  definite  from  you  or  ner, 
Judge  Kingsley,  until  I  have  made  good  in  the  world. 
But  I  do  look  to  you  to  give  me  a  square  deal.  That's 
only  what  you  owe  to  me,  man  to  man." 

300 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"I  owe  you  money  and  I  will  pay  it.  There  is  no 
other  sort  of  bargain  between  us." 

He  stepped  into  his  house  and  shut  the  door  in  my 
face. 

In  that  damnable  situation  I  was  minded  to  follow 
him  and  have  it  out,  even  if  I  were  obliged  to  expose  him. 
However,  if  death  were  hovering  over  that  house  it  was  a 
sanctuary  I  could  not  invade.  But  bitter  thoughts  raged 
in  me  when  I  turned  away;  I  only  asked  to  be  set  right 
with  Celene. 

I  understand  that  this  part  of  my  confession  will  elicit 
little  sympathy  for  me  from  the  casual  reader  who  takes 
the  comfortable  view  that  the  world  is  full  of  girls  and 
if  one  does  not  swing  low  enough  on  the  bough  there's 
always  another  within  reach.  But  mine  was  the  excep- 
tional case  where  the  first  love  had  become  an  obsession 
and  all  my  spirit  of  persistency  was  flaming  in  me.  I 
have  not  figured  out  as  yet  whether  the  troubles  into 
which  my  general  persistency  in  all  matters  has  slammed 
me  overbalance  the  fruits  it  has  brought  to  me — but  I 
reckon,  after  all,  I'll  have  to  take  my  hat  off  to  my  per- 
sistency. If  I  had  been  a  quitter  I  would  not  have  played 
the  biggest  game  in  my  life — and  I'm  coming  to  that  right 
soon. 

Once  more  circumstances  were  forcing  me,  though  I 
needed  mighty  little  forcing,  to  leave  Levant  at  that 
juncture  in  my  affairs. 

"Damn  'em!"  I  blazed  out  to  Dodovah  Vose  when  I 
stamped  into  the  tavern,  "I've  got  to  show  'em!  I'll 
show  'em  I  can  make  good." 

He  blinked  at  me. 

"But  you  have  shown  'em  already,"  he  said.  He 
thought,  of  course,  that  I  was  speaking  about  the  general 
public  in  Levant.  "And  if  I  was  in  your  place  I  wouldn't 
give  a  darn  what  your  uncle  says  to  you." 

Less  than  two  hours  later  Landlord  Vose  revised 
that  advice.  He  rushed  up  to  my  room  where  I  was  sort- 

301 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

ing  some  papers,  having  resolved  to  travel  light  when  I 
did  go. 

"Get  under — get  under,  young  Sidney,"  he  gasped. 

"Under  what?" 

"I  reckon  I  mean  get  out.  It's  your  uncle  Deck! 
Bailey  and  some  other  of  them  yawp-mouths  in  this  place 
have  been  twitting  and  tormenting  him  and  dropping 
hints,  and  he's  worse  than  a  sore-eared  bulldog  after  a 
scruffling.  He's  coming  with  a  double-barreled  shot-gun. 
He  is!  He's  drunk,  son,  and  there's  no  dealing  with  him. 
He  lays  it  all  to  you!" 

"I  won't  run." 

"  But  he  isn't  responsible,  son.  To  say  nothing  of  what 
will  happen  to  you,  it  means  that  he'll  go  to  State  prison. 
You're  sane  and  sober  and  you  ought  to  be  willing  to  save 
him  from  himself." 

Right  then  Mr.  Vose  said  something  which  appealed 
to  me.  I  had  stepped  outside  my  family — I  had  conspired 
against  my  uncle — I  had  blocked  his  dearest  ambition, 
iniquitous  though  it  was.  By  hanging  around  and  allow- 
ing him  to  take  pot-shots  at  me  I  would  be  aggravating 
his  troubles  and  bringing  more  serious  afflictions  upon 
him.  A  dead  nephew,  shot-riddled,  would  be  a  damning 
exhibit  A  in  his  trial  for  murder! 

I  picked  up  my  few  belongings  and  escaped  from  the 
back  door  of  the  tavern,  hid  in  a  cross-road  till  Dodovah 
Vose's  stableman  came  with  a  hitch,  and  I  caught  a  train 
at  a  station  down  the  line;  hustling  out  of  my  native  town 
on  the  run,  by  dint  of  practice,  was  getting  to  be  one  of 
the  best  performances  in  my  list  of  tricks. 

I  counted  my  money  when  I  was  on  my  way  to  the  city. 
I  had  not  been  keeping  any  strict  account  between  the 
judge  and  myself;  from  the  common  stock  I  had  been 
paying  expenses  and  spending  as  loose  as  peas  in  order  to 
hasten  our  journey  back  East.  I  found  around  two 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  in  my  pockets,  and  I  reflected, 
with  a  sort  of  grim  zest  in  the  humor  of  the  thing,  that 

302 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

& 

I  could  fairly  claim  most  of  this  money  as  my  own — the 
tainted  cash  from  my  poker  profits. 

I  went  straight  to  Jodrey  Vose  when  I  arrived  in  the 
metropolis  and  he  looked  neither  surprised  nor  overjoyed. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  he  inquired. 

"Oh,  sort  of  loafing  around  up-country — killing  time!" 

He  squinted  at  me  sourly. 

"I  can't  say  that  you're  doing  any  great  credit  to  my 
training,  young  Sidney!" 

"You  are  right,  Captain  Vose,  but  I'm  turning  over  a 
new  leaf  and  I'm  out  to  make  good.  I  am  hoping  that 
I  can  do  something  in  the  case  of  Anson  C.  Doughty  so 
that  I  can  get  back  into  the  diving  business  and  keep  on 
the  job  hereafter." 

"Then  you'll  go  back  to  diving  and  keep  out  from  under 
plug-hats,  will  you?" 

"Yes,  sir!" 

He  looked  at  me  for  a  long  time  and  then  he  pulled  out 
a  letter. 

"This  here,"  he  said,  tapping  it,  "is  something  more 
about  that  Golden  Gate  treasure.  There's  a  new  crowd 
on  the  rampage  about  it.  From  somebody  in  the  old 
crowd  they  have  got  hold  of  my  name.  I  came  nigh  trying 
it  on  once,  as  I  have  told  you.  But  it's  a  gamble;  I  am 
old  and  I  don't  want  it.  You  are  young  and  there's  noth- 
ing as  yet  for  you  on  the  Atlantic  coast,  and  you  might 
grab  in  on  this.  They  want  an  Eastern  diver  because  the 
divers  out  there  are  tied  up  with  the  big  concerns  and 
can't  be  depended  on  to  keep  their  mouths  shut — so  this 
letter  says." 

"Probably  it's  a  pretty  uncertain  proposition,  sir." 

"Well,  you  don't  expect  to  fall  into  anything  very 
certain,  do  you,  a  diver  blacklisted  from  Kittery  to  the 
Keys?"  he  demanded,  tartly. 

"No,  sir." 

"I  know  nothing  about  these  people,  their  plans,  or 
anything.  But  I'll  do  this  for  you,  if  you  want  me  to. 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I'll  wire  this  party  and  tell  him  I  am  sending  you  on. 
After  you  are  started  you  can  post  him  from  some  place 
as  to  when  you'll  arrive.  Better  give  him  a  wire  from 
time  to  time  to  keep  his  interest  up.  How's  your  wallet  ?" 

"I  think  it's  all  right,  sir." 

"  If  you're  lying  to  me  that's  your  own  lookout.  Have- 
n't sold  your  diving-dress,  have  you?" 

"I  have  it  safe  in  storage,  sir." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  you  kept  remembering  that  you're  a 
diver — and  the  best  one  I  ever  turned  out!"  That  was 
the  first  word  of  high  praise  he  had  given  me.  He  got  up 
and  shook  my  hand.  "Now  go  dive,  son,  and  after  you 
raise  that  four  million  from  the  wreck  of  the  Golden  Gate 
come  back  and  tell  me  all  about  it." 

I  did  not  linger  in  the  city;  there  were  too  many  pos- 
sibilities in  the  way  of  Dawlins  and  Doughtys. 

Two  hours  later  I  was  headed  across  the  continent 
with  my  diving-dress  in  its  canvas  bag  and  the  address  of 
one  Captain  Rask  Holstrom  written  in  my  note-book. 
I  was  pretty  dizzy  with  the  haste  of  it  all  and  felt  like  the 
human  shuttle  between  oceans — but  I  possessed  consider- 
able more  serenity  than  I  did  when  I  began  that  lunatic 
lope  with  Judge  Kingsley. 

I  had  framed  a  motto  and  hung  it  in  my  soul — "I'll 
show  'em!" 


XXVI 

CAPTAIN   HOLSTROM   ET  AL. 

MY  face  was  set  to  the  West,  to  be  sure,  but  my 
thoughts  were  traveling  back  over  my  shoulder  to 
the  East.  I  wish  I  could  say  that  a  lively  sense  of  injury 
enabled  me  to  put  out  of  my  mind  Levant  and  everybody 
in  Levant — box  and  dice!  But  I'm  not  much  of  a  liar. 

I  do  not  propose  to  dwell  on  the  bitterness  which  stuck 
in  me  day  after  day,  along  with  softer  sentiments.  This 
narrative  goes  into  a  gallop  at  about  this  point  and  there 
is  no  time  to  be  wasted  on  self-communings.  However, 
if  I  do  not  mention  my  old  home  and  the  folks  back  there 
it  must  not  be  understood  that  the  problem  of  my  life 
ceased  to  go  to  bed  with  me,  rise  with  me,  and  keep 
pace  with  me  as  I  hurried  through  the  day's  work. 

I  obeyed  Jodrey  Vose's  counsel  about  giving  bulletins 
of  my  progress  west.  After  I  had  bought  my  railroa'd 
ticket  and  had  counted  up,  I  felt  that  I  could  not  afford 
to  take  any  chances  on  those  strangers  losing  their  in- 
terest in  me.  I  needed  a  job  almighty  sudden  after  I 
landed  in  San  Francisco. 

On  the  last  leg  of  the  journey  I  was  able  to  forecast  the 
hour  of  my  arrival  and  I  suggested  by  wire  that  some- 
body meet  me — knowing  that  my  diver's  kit  in  its  duck 
bag  would  be  identification  enough.  This  telegraph 
business  was  shooting  arrows  into  the  air  and  I  would 
have  welcomed  a  return  message;  I  thought  they  ought 
to  be  able  to  guess  closely  enough  to  intercept  me  some- 
where along  the  line.  But,  although  no  answer  came,  I 
had  the  comfortable  feeling  that  they'd  be  likely  to  be  on 

3°5 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

the  lookout  for  me.  And  at  last  I  got  my  first  peek  at 
Pacific  waters. 

Our  train  was  hung  up  outside  the  yard  over  in  Oak- 
land while  they  opened  our  track  to  the  ferry,  and  a 
chap  I  had  chatted  with  more  or  less  in  the  smoking-room 
on  the  trip,  and  who  knew  my  business,  rushed  out, 
climbed  down  beside  the  roadbed,  and  scooped  a  tumbler- 
ful of  water.  He  ran  back  into  the  car  and  dumped  the 
water  over  me  for  a  joke,  and  I'm  so  accustomed  to  water 
that  the  joke  did  not  jar  me.  I  took  it  as  it  was  meant. 

"I  baptize  thee  in  the  name  of  the  Pacific,"  he  said. 
"Now  I  hope  the  old  dame  will  be  good  to  you  in  your 
line." 

Well,  whether  she  was  or  not  depends  on  how  one 
looks  at  those  things. 

I  walked  slowly  through  the  ferry-house,  hoping  to  be 
hailed,  and  stepped  out  on  to  the  foot  of  Market  Street 
into  the  old  San  Francisco  of  the  days  before  the  great 
calamity.  In  my  right  hand  I  tugged  along  the  duck  bag 
that  was  bulging  with  my  diving  equipment.  In  my  left 
hand  I  had  the  rest  of  my  earthly  possessions  in  a  grip 
which  was  about  the  size  of  a  ten-cent  loaf  of  bread.  It 
was  early  evening,  and  all  the  lights  were  aglare. 

There  was  a  turn-table  for  the  cable  cars  at  the  foot  of 
Market  Street.  The  cars  were  coming  down  in  constant 
procession,  and  the  turn-table  was  busy.  It  was  a  regular 
merry-go-round  kind  of  an  affair.  It  interested  me,  but 
it  didn't  interest  me  so  much  that  I  had  no  eye  for  a  girl 
who  stood  beside  me  at  the  edge  of  the  thing.  It  seemed 
to  me  right  then — fresh  from  a  tedious  train  ride,  where 
I'd  been  penned  in  with  a  frumpy  set  of  women  pas- 
sengers— that  I  had  never  seen  a  prettier  girl.  She  had 
her  finger  pointed  at  some  one  on  the  turn-table,  and  was 
saying  "Father!"  over  and  over,  with  a  new  inflection 
on  the  word  every  time  she  spoke  it.  Her  finger  traveled 
as  the  table  revolved,  and  I  was  able  to  pick  out  father 
right  away.  I  was  right-down  sorry  for  that  girl  when  I 

306 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

laid  eyes  on  father.  Father  was  grinning  like  a  sculpin 
in  deep  water,  and  he  was  good  and  drunk,  and  he  was 
evidently  taking  a  joy  ride  on  that  turn-table. 

It  struck  me  right  then,  as  a  stranger,  that  San  Fran- 
cisco had  a  good  trait  pretty  well  developed;  it  was  willing 
to  let  a  man  mind  his  own  business  as  long  as  he  didn't 
make  too  much  of  a  nuisance  of  himself.  The  street-car 
men  did  not  push  father  off  the  turn-table,  and  two  police- 
men took  a  look  at  him  and  went  off  about  their  business. 

I  took  a  good  look  at  the  man,  too,  when  the  turn- 
table brought  him  near  me  and  stopped  to  let  a  car  on. 
He  had  a  face  about  as  square  as  the  front  of  a  safe,  and 
his  nose  was  the  shape  of  a  safety-lock  knob,  and  was 
red.  His  pot-bellied  body  was  set  on  legs  like  crooked 
wharf  pilings.  I  had  father  sized  up  in  a  second.  Double- 
breasted  blue  coat,  cap  of  blue,  with  the  peak  pulled 
rakishly  down  over  one  eye,  gray  beard  which  radiated 
in  spills  from  his  chin  like  tiller  spokes — he  was  a  steam- 
boat man,  sure !  I  don't  know  what  in  the  devil  possessed 
me  to  butt  in  and  make  certain — perhaps  I  wanted  to 
start  something  so  as  to  get  a  rise  out  of  the  girl.  I'm 
not  naturally  fresh  and  you  may  be  sure  I  was  in  no 
mood  for  a  flirtation.  I  was  crusted  with  Yankee  reserve 
even  when  I  was  young.  But  that  impish  air  of  San 
Francisco  was  in  my  nostrils — did  you  ever  sniff  it? 
It  makes  your  head  buzz  and  your  thoughts  froth,  and  it 
takes  hold  of  an  Easterner  as  quickly  as  a  stiff  cocktail 
grabs  a  man  who  isn't  used  to  a  mixed  drink.  You'll 
do  almost  anything  in  San  Francisco  when  the  sparkle 
from  that  trade-wind  gets  into  your  lungs. 

So  I  tipped  father  the  wink. 

"Give  her  the  jingle  when  she  starts  again,"  I  said. 

I  was  right  in  my  guess.  He  crooked  his  forefinger, 
reached  down,  and  yanked  empty  air. 

"Clang!"  he  barked.  In  a  few  seconds  the  turn- 
table began  to  revolve  again.  Father  gave  me  as  silly 
a  grin  as  I  ever  saw  on  a  grown-up  man's  face.  "Yingle- 

307 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

yingle  —  yingle!"  he  yelled  in  falsetto.     And  away  he 
went! 

I  never  got  a  more  awful  look  from  a  pretty  girl  than 
I  got  from  that  one  when  I  turned  and  caught  her  eyes. 
There  was  nothing  shrinking  or  bashful  about  her  when 
she  was  mad,  so  I  found  out  then  and  there. 

"You  fool!    You  have  started  him  all  over  again." 

"He  seemed  to  be  well  started  before  I  came  along, 
miss."  It  was  that  confounded  air  that  was  making  me 
reckless  and  saucy. 

"Clang!"  yelped  father,  coming  around  again.  "Yin- 
gle— yingle — yingle!  Pull  in  them  port  fenders  and 
mouse  that  anchor;  we're  going  outside  this  trip." 

"Just  see  the  fool  notion  you  have  gone  and  put  into 
him  when  he  was  all  ready  to  come  along  with  me!"  she 
blazed.  She  knocked  her  little  knuckles  together  in  as 
fine  a  state  of  temper  as  I  ever  viewed  spouting  in  a 
female.  She  turned  suddenly  and  drove  one  of  her 
fists  against  a  man  whom  I  had  not  noticed  till  then. 
He  was  tall — as  long  as  the  moral  law,  as  we  say  East — 
as  thin  as  a  pump-handle,  and  he  had  a  tangle  of  gray 
whisker  and  beard  on  top  of  him  that  made  him  look  like 
a  window-mop.  He  fell  down  when  she  hit  him.  She 
kicked  him  with  the  point  of  a  little  shoe,  and  he  came 
up,  unfolding  in  sections  like  a  carpenter's  two-foot  rule. 

"Slap  this  man's  face,  Ike,  and  send  him  along  about 
his  business,"  she  commanded. 

But  he  only  teetered  and  grinned  and  drooled,  and 
winked  at  me  over  her  shoulder. 

"Oh,  you  are  only  another  drunken  fool!"  she  raged; 
and  she  stretched  on  tiptoe,  and  beat  his  face  with  the 
flat  of  her  hand.  "You  have  stood  here  without  putting 
up  a  finger  to  help  me  get  him  off  that  turn-table,  where 
he's  disgracing  himself.  I  wonder  whether  there  are  any 
real  men  left  in  San  Francisco!"  She  was  in  such  a  state 
of  mind  that  I  was  mighty  ashamed  by  then,  I  tell  you 
that! 

308 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  dropped  my  baggage  and  took  off  my  hat. 

"I  don't  know  much  about  San  Francisco  and  the  real 
men,  miss,"  I  told  her,  "for  I've  been  in  town  only  about 
five  minutes.  I  reckon  it  makes  an  Easterner  dizzy  to  be 
rushed  in  and  dropped  here.  I  didn't  mean  to  make 
trouble  for  you.  Seeing  that  I've  made  it,  I'll  unmake  it 
if  I  can.  Do  you  want  your  father — saying  it  is  your 
father — brought  off  that  turn-table?" 

"No!"  she  snapped,  still  spiteful  and  all  worked  ,up. 
' '  I  want  you  to  think  up  something  else  for  him  to  do  on 
there  as  soon  as  he  gets  tired  of  doing  what  you 
suggested." 

Well,  it  was  up  to  me  to  butt  into  that  affair  still  farther 
— I  could  see  that.  I  couldn't  sneak  off  and  leave  that 
girl  feeling  that  way  about  me.  I  hopped  on  to  the 
moving  turn-table,  took  father  by  the  arm,  and  told  him 
his  daughter  wanted  him  to  come  along.  He  braced 
himself  and  shook  loose. 

"Nossir,"  said  he.  "I've  paid  my  money,  and  I'll  stay 
aboard  till  I  get  to  where  I'm  bound." 

"Look  here,  you  are  not  getting  anywhere,  man.  You 
are  only  riding  around  and  around,  making  a  show  of 
yourself,  and  there's  your  nice  daughter  waiting  for 
you." 

"It's  no  place  for  a  daughter — going  where  I'm  going. 
Daughter  ought  to  be  in  bed."  And  then  he  braced  him- 
self back  still  farther,  and — well,  I  suppose  I'll  have  to 
call  it  "singing"  in  order  to  describe  the  sound: 

"I'm  bound  for  the  foot  of  Telegraph  Hill, 

To  the  Barbary  Coast  so  gay. 
I'm  starting  there  for  a  peach  of  a  tear — fill 
'Em  up  all  round — hooray!" 

I  took  hold  of  his  arm  once  more,  and  it  was  some  arm. 

"Look  here,"  he  snarled,  squinting  at  me,  "I  don't 
know  who  you  are,  but  I'll  let  you  know  who  I  am  blamed 
quick." 

3°9 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  don't  know  just  what  he  might  have  done  to  me  if  he 
had  been  sober — but  he  wasn't  sober.  I  was,  and  my  line 
of  work  had  made  me  lithe  and  quick.  I  snapped  my 
man  before  he  had  time  to  open  his  mouth,  and  ran  him 
off  that  turn-table  and  presented  him  to  his  daughter  with 
my  compliments.  He  kicked  and  thrashed  around  in  a 
logy  style,  and  I  kept  him  circling  so  that  he  could  not 
get  foothold,  on  the  same  principle  that  you  keep  a  boa- 
constrictor  from  hooking  his  tail  around  a  tree. 

"Where  will  you  have  him  delivered,  miss?"  I  asked, 
as  politely  as  I  could. 

"Father,  you  come  along  with  me  this  instant!"  she 
cried.  "We  don't  want  strangers  interfering  in  our 
affairs  any  longer."  She  said  that  to  him  for  my  benefit. 

"I  don't  mean  to  be  interfering,  miss,"  I  pleaded. 
"I  only  want  to  square  myself  for  being  thoughtless  and 
starting  trouble  for  you — more  trouble,  I  mean." 

She  put  her  hand  against  me  and  pushed  me  away 
from  her  father — no,  I  can  hardly  say  that  I  was  pushed 
away.  That  hand  was  too  little  to  push  a  man  of  my 
size.  But  the  gesture  of  pushing  was  enough  for  me.  I 
let  him  loose.  She  reached  for  his  ear,  but  he  dodged 
away,  cantering  like  a  cart-horse,  and  whooped  that  he 
was  bound  for  the  "Barbary  Coast."  The  human  belay- 
ing-pin  with  the  oakum  topknot  followed,  plainly  relish- 
ing the  fact  that  the  procession  had  started.  The  girl 
took  a  few  steps  in  pursuit,  and  then  she  stopped  and 
began  to  cry.  She  had  grit — I  had  seen  that — but  after 
a  girl  gets  about  so  mad  she  has  to  cry  on  general  prin- 
ciples. 

"Look  here,"  I  told  her,  "I'm  a  stranger,  all  right,  but 
you  need  a  man's  help  right  now.  I'll  help  for  every  ounce 
that's  in  me  if  you'll  say  the  word.  But  I'm  a  Yankee 
and  I  need  to  be  asked." 

"He  has  a  lot  of  money  in  his  pockets,"  she  sobbed. 
"He  must  pay  out  that  money  to-morrow  morning.  He 
will  be  butchered  and  robbed  where  he's  going.  I  never 

310 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

saw  him  so  silly  and  obstinate  before.  His  head  has  been 
turned  by  some  good  luck  which  has  come  to  him.  He — " 

"I  haven't  got  time  to  listen  to  details,  miss.  He's 
getting  out  of  sight.  I've  got  to  work  quick.  I'm  square 
and  decent  and  honest,  and  I'm  mighty  sorry  for  the 
scrape  you  are  in.  Do  you  want  me  to  chase  that  father 
of  yours  for  you?" 

"Yes,"  she  gasped;   "yes,  I  do." 

"About  all  I'm  worth  in  the  world  is  in  that  bag  there. 
It's  my  diving-dress.  I've  got  to  leave  it." 

"Your  name  is  Sidney!"  she  cried,  her  eyes  opening 
wide  on  me.  "You're  the  man  we  came  to  meet!" 

So,  after  all,  I  had  butted  in  on  my  reception  committee ! 

"And  that's  Captain  Holstrom?"  I  demanded,  pointing 
up  the  street. 

"Yes!  Yes!  Hurry,  sir.  I  will  watch  your  bag!  I 
will  stay  here.  Hurry,  sir !  He  has  gone  up  Market  Street, 
but  he'll  turn  to  the  right  pretty  soon.  That's  the  way 
to  the  horrible  Barbary  Coast." 

I  patted  her  shoulder — I  couldn't  help  it.  She  looked 
up  at  me  through  her  tears.  And  off  I  hiked,  leaving  my 
earthly  possessions  in  charge  of  a  girl  whom  I  had  met  for 
the  first  time  less  than  ten  minutes  before. 

Of  course,  I  knew  what  every  one  knows,  whether  he 
has  been  in  San  Francisco  or  not,  that  Market  Street  cuts 
straight  across  the  city  from  bay  to  ocean.  But  at  just 
what  street  on  the  course  Captain  Rask  Holstrom  pro- 
ceeded to  port  his  helm  and  swing  to  starboard  blessed  if 
I  had  the  least  idea.  I  didn't  know  the  name  of  another 
street  in  the  city.  I  knew  what  the  Barbary  Coast  was 
in  San  Francisco.  I  had  read  descriptions  of  its  dance- 
halls,  its  dens,  its  haunts  of  iniquity,  and  its  dangers. 
And  here  I  was,  galloping  straight  toward  it  before  the 
creases  of  a  railroad  journey  across  the  continent  were 
out  of  my  clothes.  That  is  to  say,  I  hoped  I  was  galloping 
toward  it,  for  I  wanted  to  catch  father  for  that  nice  girl. 

Captain  Holstrom  was  out  of  sight  among  the  crowds 

21  311 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

on  that  long  Market  Street  before  I  had  started  the  chase. 
I  didn't  dare  to  run  too  fast. 

San  Francisco,  as  I  have  said,  seemed  to  be  inclined  to 
let  a  man  tend  to  his  own  business,  but  I  didn't  want  to 
provoke  some  ass  to  start  a  "stop  thief"  yell  behind  me. 
I  craned  and  peered  ahead  as  I  trotted  on.  I  stopped  for 
a  moment  at  the  head  of  streets  which  led  away  to  the 
right— the  girl  had  said  he  would  turn  to  the  right — but  I 
caught  no  glimpse  of  a  bobbing  blue  cap  nor  of  a  lofty 
thatch  of  grizzled  beard  and  whisker. 

I  took  a  chance  after  a  while,  for  Market  Street  showed 
ahead  an  upward  slope  and  I  couldn't  spot  my  man  there. 
I  turned  off  to  the  right,  and  hurried.  I  didn't  know  what 
street  I  was  on.  I  came  to  a  square  at  last  where  there 
were  a  statue  and  a  fountain,  and  there  were  large  buildings 
on  the  right.  I  ran  across  the  square,  and  the  next 
moment  I  realized  that  I  was  in  Chinatown — and  I  had 
read  of  that  part  of  San  Francisco,  too.  I  knew  then  that 
I  was  headed  toward  the  Barbary  Coast  all  right,  having 
a  memory  of  what  I  had  read.  But  in  a  few  minutes  I 
was  lost  in  a  maze  of  narrow  streets  which  traveled  up 
and  down  the  little  hills.  I  was  peering  and  goggling  here 
and  there.  I  must  have  looked  like  a  tourist  trying  to  do 
Chinatown  in  record  time.  I  came  into  a  street  or  alley 
that  was  roofed — and  I  came  out  again,  for  it  seemed  to 
be  closed  in  at  the  upper  end.  By  that  time  I  realized 
that  not  only  had  I  lost  Capt.  Rask  Holstrom,  but  that 
I  had  also  succeeded  in  losing  myself — a  rather  silly 
predicament  for  a  young  man  who  so  boldly  offered  him- 
self as  knight  errant  to  a  damsel  in  distress. 

I  stood  still  and  wiped  sweat  out  of  my  eyes,  and  ad- 
dressed a  few  pregnant  remarks  to  myself  on  the  subject 
of  a  man's  making  a  fool  of  himself  for  a  woman.  How- 
ever, I  had  a  mighty  good  reason  of  my  own  for  wanting 
to  meet  up  with  Captain  Holstrom — and  to  safeguard 
that  money  of  his,  for  I  hoped  to  rake  some  of  it  down  in 
wages. 

312 


XXVII 

MR.    BEASON   HORNS   IN 

A  WHITE-LIVERED,  sneaky-looking  chap  sidled  up 
/~\  to  me  and  stuck  out  a  dirty  card. 

"That's  my  name  on  there,"  said  he;  "Jake  Beason, 
and  I'm  the  best  Chinatown  guide  that's  on  the  beat; 
I'll  show  you  everything  from  joss-house  to  hop-holes." 

"Do  you  know  the  Barbary  Coast?" 

"Do  I  know —  Oh,  come  now!  Why,  say,  I  live  over 
that  way,"  he  snarled  through  the  corner  of  his  mouth; 
and  he  looked  at  me  as  though  I  had  insulted  his  intelli- 
gence. 

I  decided  that  I  would  be  plain  and  direct  with  that 
chap. 

"I'm  on  the  trail  of  a  steamboat  captain  by  the  name 
of  Holstrom,  and  he  is  two- thirds  pickled,  and  has  money 
on  him.  Do  you  think  you  know  the  places  where  a  man 
like  that  would  be  likely  to  drop  in?" 

"What's  the  lay — a  touch  and  a  diwy?" 

"Nothing  of  the  kind.  I'm  his  friend,  and  I  want  to 
catch  him  and  take  him  home  out  of  trouble." 

"The  same  old  stall,"  he  sneered.  "You've  got  to  let 
me  be  a  friend,  too." 

I  reached  out  and  got  my  crowbar  clutch  on  that  fellow. 

"I  don't  suppose  you  ever  had  a  man  tell  you  the 
truth,  son,"  I  said,  "so  I'm  not  going  to  blame  you  much. 
I  say  that  I'm  after  this  man  to  take  him  home  to  his 
daughter.  That's  truth,  and  it's  on  my  say-so.  If  you 
propose  to  call  me  a  liar,  out  with  it,  and  we'll  settle  the 
thing." 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

"She  stands  as  you  say — and  you  needn't  pinch  so," 
he  whined. 

There's  nothing  like  a  good  grip  to  press  home  convic- 
tion in  a  sneak. 

"I'll  give  you  ten  dollars  if  you'll  locate  that  man  for 
me  before  the  evening  is  over,"  I  told  him.  "  I'll  make  it 
twenty  dollars  if  you'll  turn  the  trick  inside  of  an  hour." 

"I  know  all  the  joints — I  know  the  steamboat  hang- 
outs." 

"  It  ought  to  be  an  easy  trick.  He  is  with  an  old  belay- 
ing-pin  who  has  enough  hair  on  his  head  and  face  to  stuff 
a  bolster — and  I  heard  somebody  call  him  Ike." 

"Aw,  that's  'Ingot  Ike.'  Everybody  between  Dupont 
Street  and  Telegraph  Hill  knows  that  old  hornbeam  and 
his  everlasting  hum  about  three  million  dollars'  worth  of 
buried  gold  ingots.  Come  along!  I  ought  to  pull  down 
that  twenty  easy." 

"Let  me  tell  you  one  thing,"  I  said,  chasing  along  with 
him.  "I'm  not  worth  robbing.  I'm  going  to  keep  close 
to  you,  and  if  you  put  me  against  any  frame-up  I'll  get 
you  first,  and  I'll  get  you  quick."  And  I  grabbed  him  by 
the  wrist  and  let  him  have  that  honest  old  grip  once  more. 
I  kept  hold  of  him.  And  led  thus  like  a  blind  man  through 
this  street  and  that,  by  short  cuts  along  dark  alleys,  across 
courts,  and  now  and  then  skirting  vacant  lots,  we  came  at 
last  into  purlieus  that  my  ears,  eyes,  and  nose  told  me 
must  be  that  "Barbary  Coast  so  gay,"  as  Captain 
Holstrom  had  caroled. 

Out  of  open  doors  came  liquor  fumes  and  music 
blended,  if  there  is  any  such  thing  as  blending  noise  and 
odors;  the  two  seemed  to  be  associated  there  so  regularly 
and  invariably  that  my  senses  told  me  that  they  were 
blended. 

The  women  sauntered  on  the  sidewalks ;  the  men  loafed 
there.  We  two  seemed  to  be  about  the  only  ones  who 
were  headed  for  something  definite. 

"We'll  tap  the  regular  joints  first,"  said  Season.    "If 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

he's  pretty  drunk  he  won't  be  using  his  mind  much  to 
think  up  new  places  to  go.  He'll  fall  into  the  rut  like  a 
ball  in  a  crooked  pin-game." 

I  was  young  enough  to  be  interested  in  that  panorama 
of  iniquity.  I  would  have  gaped  longer  than  I  did  in  those 
places,  but  Mr.  Beason  proved  to  be  a  very  active  guide. 
That  matter  of  twenty  dollars  proved  to  be  like  a  bur 
under  a  bronco's  saddle.  He  would  gallop  into  a  place, 
leave  me  to  goggle  at  the  antics  on  the  dance  floor;  he 
would  weasel  his  way  through  the  crowd,  chop  out  a  few 
staccato  questions,  and  then  yank  me  out  with  my  eyes 
behind  me  and  my  chin  hanging  over  my  shoulder  like 
the  tailboard  of  a  cart. 

Beason  rattled  me  down  another  length  of  street — and 
if  the  folks  we  bumped  hadn't  known  him  I  reckon  we 
would  have  had  a  few  things  on  our  hands  besides  that 
man  hunt.  They  all  seemed  to  know  Beason.  He  snapped 
questions  right  and  left. 

All  at  once  my  guide  got  a  clue.  He  barked  a  few 
more  questions  at  this  illuminative  party,  and  turned  and 
scooted  back  along  our  trail. 

"The  old  cuss  has  taken  to  a  back  room,"  he  gasped. 
"I  ought  to  have  figured  that  he  would  be  hiding." 

He  rushed  me  around  corners,  across  streets,  down  al- 
leys, and  into  more  streets.  We  came  up  against  a  saloon 
at  last  where  the  front  window  was  lettered  in  red  paint, 
"Holding  Ground  Cove."  Knowing,  as  a  deep-sea  diver, 
that  a  good  holding  ground  means  a  mud  bottom,  I  could 
have  thought  up  a  highly  moral  and  somewhat  humorous 
apothegm  on  that  name  for  a  saloon  if  I  had  had  the 
time;  but  Mr.  Beason  was  cutting  corners  on  Time  that 
night.  He  rushed  me  into  the  saloon,  into  a  back  room 
at  the  rear,  and  when  he  didn't  see  what  we  were  looking 
for  up-stairs  we  went.  There  were  cribs  of  private 
rooms,  furnished  with  bare  tables  and  hard  chairs— drink- 
ing-rooms.  From  the  half-open  door  of  one  came  the 
cackle  of  much  laughter,  and  we  peeped  in. 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

A  girl,  whose  face  was  painted  in  almost  as  gaudy  hues 
as  her  red  stockings,  was  standing  on  a  table  in  the  middle 
of  the  little  room. 

Capt.  Rask  Holstrom  was  seated  in  a  chair,  straddling 
the  back,  and  was  busily  engaged  in  tickling  the  girl's 
nose  with  the  tip  of  a  very  long  peacock  feather — and 
wherever  he  secured  that  feather  I  never  found  out. 
But  always  leave  it  to  a  hilarious  drunken  man  to  find 
something  odd  to  carry  around  with  him.  In  the  room 
was  the  human  belaying-pin,  also  seated.  But  his  chair 
had  evidently  slipped  from  under  him  when  he  tried  to 
lean  against  the  wall,  and  he  was  jack-knifed  down  in  a 
corner,  with  his  broomstick  legs  waving  in  the  air,  and 
was  surveying  the  scene  between  that  frame.  He  was 
squealing  laughter  in  a  key  that  would  have  put  a  guinea- 
hen  out  of  business. 

"There's  Ingot  Ike,"  affirmed  Beason,  "and  if  t'other 
one  is  your  pertickler  friend  then  I'll  cash  in." 

He  held  up  his  cheap  watch,  with  his  dirty  forefinger  in- 
dicating the  hour. 

"I  get  the  twenty  with  nine  minutes'  'velvet,'  if  that's 
your  friend." 

But  Captain  Holstrom  did  not  display  any  very  ardent 
friendship  for  any  one  just  then.  He  turned  an  espe- 
cially malevolent  stare  in  my  direction  and  poised  his  pea- 
cock feather  like  lance  in  rest.  I  could  see  that  something 
was  going  to  break  loose  there  mighty  soon,  and  after 
what  I  had  told  Beason  I  didn't  want  that  young  sneak 
to  overhear.  It  would  be  like  him  to  come  back  with  a 
gang  and  "do"  me  on  the  excuse  that  I  was  a  stranger 
who  was  "frisking"  Captain  Holstrom  for  his  pocketful. 

I  hauled  out  two  ten-dollar  bills  mighty  quick,  and 
passed  them  to  Beason.  He  held  one  in  each  hand,  pinched 
between  thumb  and  forefinger,  and  looked  at  them  in 
turn,  wrinkling  his  nose  with  as  much  disgust  as  thougk 
he  were  holding  lizards  by  the  tails. 

"Soft  money,"  said  he,  "and  the  stink  of  the  East  still 


on  it!  I'll  bet  you  both  of  these  poultices  that  you 
haven't  been  in  San  Francisco  twenty-four  hours — and 
how  do  you  happen  to  be  such  a  pertickler  friend  of  a 
China  Basin  steamboat  cap'n,  hey?" 

A  freshly  arrived  Easterner  is  always  given  away  by 
his  paper  money. 

"Who's  a  friend?"  inquired  Captain  Holstrom,  the  one 
eye  I  could  see  as  staring  and  as  baleful  as  the  "eye" 
on  the  peacock  feather. 

"Look-a-here,"  said  I,  bracing  up  to  him  savagely, 
for  I  knew  that  soft  soap  wouldn't  grease  the  ways,  "I 
want  to  know  what  you  mean  by  running  away  from  me 
after  my  telegrams  to  you." 

I  whirled  on  Beason,  pushed  him  out  of  the  room,  and 
slammed  the  door  in  his  face. 

"You  have  been  paid,"  I  yelled  at  him  through  the 
crack.  "Now,  keep  your  nose  out  of  the  rest  of  the 
thing,  or  I'll  pinch  it  off." 

"See  here,"  growled  Captain  Holstrom,  vibrating  the 
feather  as  menacingly  as  though  it  were  a  sled  stake, 
"don't  you  know  a  private  party  when  you  see  one?" 

I  walked  right  up  to  him. 

"My  name  is  Sidney.  I'm  the  diver  you  are  ex- 
pecting." 

"You're  a  liar,"  he  returned,  promptly. 

"  I  tell  you  you  were  down  to  the  ferry  to  meet  me.  I 
pulled  you  off  that  turn-table!" 

"Who  are  you?" 

"I  am  Ross  Sidney,  I  say!  You're  expecting  me.  I'm 
a  diver." 

But  he  did  not  show  the  least  evidence  of  understanding 
what  I  was  talking  about.  It's  a  familiar  phase  of 
drunkenness  in  many  men — that  dogged  determination 
to  hang  on  to  one  notion  and  admit  no  others. 

He  shook  his  head  and  waggled  the  feather  under  the 
girl's  nose. 

"This  is  a  private  party,"  he  growled. 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"But  your  daughter  is  waiting  for  you — she  is  very 
much  worried  about  you  and  the  money." 

"Say,  who  does  this  money  and  this  daughter  and  this 
room  here  belong  to,  anyway?  Who  do  I  belong  to? 
Who  am  I?  Ain't  I  Rask  Holstrom,  fifty-six  years  old, 
and  fully  able  to  take  care  of  myself  anywhere  between 
Point  Lobo  and  India  Basin?"  He  squinted  at  me  along 
the  peacock's  plume.  "Who  are  you?  You  say  my  girl 
is  at  the  ferry,  hey?  How  do  you  know  she  is  there?" 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  dropped  the  feather,  and 
yanked  a  canvas  bag  from  the  right-hand  pocket  of  his 
trousers.  It  was  a  plump  bag,  and  a  heavy  bag,  and  it 
plainly  contained  hard  money.  He  banged  it  down  on  the 
table  with  such  a  thump  that  the  girl  hopped  and  squealed, 
and  it  barely  missed  her  toes.  He  pulled  another  canvas 
bag  from  the  left-hand  pocket,  and  crashed  that  down. 
This  time  he  connected  with  the  girl's  toes.  She  screamed 
in  pain,  leaped  down  from  the  table,  and  began  to  hop 
around  the  room,  kicking  her  foot  out  behind  her.  She 
stumbled  into  a  corner,  braced  herself  there,  and  began  to 
swear  volubly,  clutching  the  tip  of  her  faded  red-velvet 
slipper  in  both  hands. 

I  had  not  broken  in  on  his  monologue.  I  could  not 
match  him  in  roaring.  Then  for  the  first  time  he  seemed 
to  note  that  the  girl  was  not  in  an  amiable  state  of  mind. 

"You've  insulted  my  lady  friend.  I'll  have  your  life 
for  that!"  He  plunged  out  of  his  chair  and  drove  against 
the  wall  in  his  unsteadiness. 

The  girl  was  profanely  advising  me — no,  entreating 
me — to  kill  the  "drunken  fool."  I  didn't  blame  her  for 
her  fire,  and  I  could  excuse  her  language.  To  shift  from 
a  tickling  under  the  chin  to  a  mally-hackling  of  toes  was 
a  little  too  strong  for  a  woman's  nature  even  if  the  toes 
had  been  cracked  with  money. 

That  was  no  time  for  fine  figuring  as  to  ways,  means, 
or  chances.  Before  Captain  Holstrom  recovered  his 
balance  I  grabbed  his  sacks  and  stuffed  them  into  my 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

pockets.  I  started  for  the  door.  I  had  a  sort  of  muddled 
memory  of  a  maxim,  or  proverb,  or  something  of  the  kind 
which  says  that  "where  a  man's  treasure  is  there  will  his 
heart  be  also."  It  occurred  to  me  that  Captain  Holstrom's 
body  would  go  with  his  heart  if  I  made  off  with  that  money, 
and  I  preferred  to  have  the  body  chase  me  on  two  legs 
rather  than  be  lugged  on  my  shoulders.  If  he  would 
chase  me  back  to  the  ferry  the  situation  would  be  sim- 
plified. Of  course,  mine  was  a  crazy  expedient,  consider- 
ing the  place  where  I  was,  but  it  was  a  crazy  evening, 
anyway. 

"I'm  not  stealing  it,"  I  yelled  at  him  as  I  opened  the 
door.  "I'm  going  to  give  it  to  your  girl,  and  if  you  run 
hard  enough  you'll  see  me  give  it  to  her." 

I  had  plenty  of  help  in  opening  that  door.  There  were 
men  outside  who  helped  me  so  promptly  and  unani- 
mously that  it  was  evident  they  had  been  lying  in  wait. 

Two  of  them  grabbed  me  by  the  neck  as  they  would 
have  clutched  a  bat  stick  in  choosing  sides  in  a  game  of 
three  old  cat.  They  rammed  me  back  into  the  room. 
There  were  three  other  men  who  came  in,  and  one  of  them 
was  that  rat  of  a  Beason. 

They  were  all  talking  at  one  another,  and  Beason  was 
spitting  words  the  fastest.  But  Captain  Holstrom 
drowned  out  all  other  sounds  by  a  bellow  of  delight.  He 
knew  these  men,  all  right.  He  seemed  especially  tickled 
to  behold  the  two  men  who  held  me.  He  slapped  them  on 
their  backs,  cuffed  their  faces  with  drunken  affection, 
and  adjured  them  to  hold  me  tighter. 

"He  took  my  money!  He  stole  it!  He  insulted  a  lady 
friend  of  mine.  He's  been  chasing  me  and  picking  a  row 
with  me  for  three  days,"  he  lied,  or  else  the  rum  he  had 
been  drinking  had  elongated  his  notions  of  time. 

"You  see,  I  get  your  twenty,  Mr.  Keedy,"  insisted 
Beason.  "I  told  you  straight.  I  called  the  turn  on  this 
fly  guy-  He's  what  I  told  you  he  was.  You  just  heard 
what  the  captain  said." 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  was  mighty  busy  just  then  with  the  two  men  who 
were  holding  me,  and  Captain  Holstrom  was  giving  me 
some  slaps  which  were  drunkenly  heavy,  but  not  affec- 
tionate. However,  I  heard  what  Season  said,  and  I  saw 
the  man  whom  he  called  Keedy  pass  over  a  twenty-dollar 
gold  piece.  Season  grinned  at  me  and  scuttled  out  of 
the  room.  The  Keedy  person  pushed  the  scolding  girl 
out  after  him  and  slammed  the  door. 

I  did  not  like  the  looks  of  the  Keedy  person — no,  not 
at  all.  I  may  have  instinct  in  such  matters;  I  don't 
know.  A  diver  is  obliged  to  do  most  of  his  work  in  pitch 
darkness  and  by  the  sense  of  touch,  and  such  work  may 
develop  instinct  in  general.  I  won't  stop  to  discuss  the 
question. 

But  that  yellow  face  with  a  black  mustache  smacked 
across  it  like  a  smear  of  paint,  and  arrows  of  eyebrows 
shooting  up  northeast  and  northwest  from  a  regular 
gouge  of  a  wrinkle  between  the  man's  eyes  wasn't  the 
kind  of  physog  worn  by  the  deacon  who  takes  up  the 
collection  in  a  Sunday-school.  He  stood  with  back  against 
the  door. 

"Go  through  him,  gents,"  he  directed.  "And  hand 
me  the  gun  when  you  come  to  it." 

There  wasn't  any  gun,  but  they  got  the  two  sacks  of 
gold,  and  my  little  stock  of  paper  money  as  well.  Then 
they  gave  me  a  shove  into  a  corner,  and  all  of  them  stood 
off  and  looked  at  me.  The  excitement  had  brought  old 
Ingot  Ike  on  to  his  feet  and  he  joined  the  ring  of  spectators. 

"You  are  in  bad,"  stated  Mr.  Keedy. 

Silence  gives  consent;  so  I  kept  still. 

"Who  is  backing  you  in  this  job?  Where's  the  rest  of 
your  gang?  You're  in  here  without  a  gun.  Now,  where's 
the  main  party?" 

"The  main  party,"  said  I,  mad  enough  now  to  do  a 
little  talking,  "is  down  at  the  ferry,  foot  of  Market  Street. 
She  is  that  old  fool's  daughter,  and  she  was  crying  when 
I  left  her.  I'm  just  in  from  the  East,  and  when  I  came 

320 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

out  on  to  the  street  from  the  ferry  this  evening,  setting 
foot  in  San  Francisco  for  the  first  time — " 

"You're  a  liar!"  yelped  Captain  Holstrom.  "You've 
been  on  my  trail  for  seven  days,  and  you  have  just 
knocked  me  down  when  I  was  entertaining  a  lady  friend 
and  wasn't  looking.  You  robbed  me.  The  money  was 
found  on  you.  But  Rask  Holstrom  has  got  friends  who 
won't  see  him  done.  Here  they  are.  And  into  the  dock 
you  go,  blast  ye!" 

"You're  in  bad,"  reiterated  the  Keedy  person,  narrow- 
ing the  crease  between  his  eyes. 

"If  you're  a  friend  of  Captain  Holstrom,  see  if  you 
can't  pound  it  into  his  head  that  I'm  the  diver  he  is 
expecting." 

"You're  the  what?    Is  your  name  Sidney?" 

"That  is  my  name." 

"Rask,"  snapped  Keedy  at  last,  "were  you  down  at 
the  ferry  turn-table  as  this  man  says?  You've  been  pretty 
drunk.  This  thing  here  is  taking  a  new  tack.  I'd  like 
to  believe  this  chap  here  if  I  can." 

"  Might  have  been  there,"  owned  up  the  captain. 

"Was  there,"  stated  that  old  fool  of  an  Ike,  who  had 
been  standing  by  without  a  word  in  my  behalf.  Now  he 
was  ready  and  willing  to  leap  with  the  popular  side.  "I 
was  there  with  him." 

"Was  your  daughter  there  with  you?  Did  you  leave 
her  there?" 

Captain  Holstrom  looked  a  little  ashamed,  and  hesitated. 

"She  was  there,"  stated  Ike.  "She  was  following  us 
and  trying  to  get  my  noble  cap'n  to  go  along  with  her, 
but  it  wasn't  right  to  bother  my  noble  cap'n  when  he  was 
happy  over  a  lucky  trade." 

"The  two  of  you  must  have  been  good  and  fine," 
growled  Mr.  Keedy.  "Look  here,  Cap,  I  believe  this 
gent  is  telling  a  lot  of  the  truth  about  you.  No  matter 
now  about  his  high  jinks  with  the  coin.  I  want  to  believe 
what  he  says.  As  your  partner,  Captain  Holstrom,  my 

321 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

advice  to  you  is  to  hustle  out,  get  a  cab,  and  get  to  that 
ferry  station  in  quick  time.  If  that  diving-suit  is  there 
bring  it  back  here." 

The  captain  rolled  out  of  the  room,  growling,  but  sub- 
dued. 

Mr.  Keedy  gave  me  what  was  for  him  an  affable  smile, 
a  hitching  up  nearer  to  his  nose  of  that  paint-streak 
mustache. 

"We  may  as  well  start  in  an  acquaintance,"  he  said. 
He" passed  my  pocket-book  back.  "My  name  is  Marcena 
Keedy,  partner  of  Cap'n  Holstrom.  Step  up  here, 
gents,"  he  commanded  the  two  men  who  had  squatted 
my  windpipe.  "This  is  Number-one  Jones;  this  is 
Number-two  Jones."  They  ducked  salute.  They  had 
paint-brush  chin  beards  and  cock  eyes,  and  were  evidently 
twins.  "First  and  second  mates,  new  hired  for  the 
Zizania"  He  did  not  bother  to  introduce  Ingot  Ike. 

He  pushed  a  button  on  the  wall. 

"We'll  take  something  to  gum  the  edges  of  sociability, 
gents.  There's  nothing  like  gents  starting  in  sociable 
when  they  can,  and  staying  sociable  as  long  as  they  can, 
providing  any  gent  proves  himself  all  right,  as  he  says 
he  is." 

He  gave  me  a  significant  and  mighty  sharp  look,  sat 
down,  and  jigged  one  leg  over  the  other,  trying  hard  to 
keep  up  his  affable  smile. 

We  kept  on  being  sociable  for  half  an  hour  or  more. 

At  last  back  came  Capt.  Rask  Holstrom.  He  was 
tugging  my  duffle-bag,  and  on  his  heels  was  his  daughter. 
She  had  my  little  valise.  She  did  not  show  any  especial 
symptoms  of  embarrassment  at  being  in  such  a  joint 
alone  with  men.  She  walked  straight  to  me  and  gave  me 
the  valise.  What  was  better,  she  gave  me  a  smile. 

"I  misunderstood  you,  sir,  on  short  acquaintance,"  she 
said.  "I  hope  you  will  excuse  me." 

She  looked  me  straight  in  the  eyes  without  coquetry,  a 
gaze  as  level  and  candid  as  that  of  man  to  man. 

322 


I  gulped  some  reply — I  don't  know  what.  I  wasn't 
half  as  cool  as  she  was. 

Keedy  right  now  put  that  yellow  face  between  us.  The 
affable  smile  wasn't  there.  I  got  a  quick  and  sharp  im- 
pression that  he  didn't  relish  the  way  the  girl  and  I  were 
getting, chummy.  She  was  putting  out  her  hand  to  me, 
for  I  had  made  a  motion  as  though  to  shake  on  our 
general  understanding.  He  took  her  hand  and  whirled 
her  around  and  pointed  to  a  chair. 

"You'd  better  sit  down,  Kama  dear.  We're  going  to 
talk  a  little  business,  and  you  can  listen,  for  you  are  too 
much  father's  girl  to  be  kept  out  of  any  deal  of  ours." 

She  pulled  her  hand  out  of  his,  but  she  went  and  sat 
down  without  shaking  my  hand. 

"  Father's  girl  sees  more  clearly  every  day  that  he  needs 
a  guardian,"  she  said,  with  a  rather  hard  laugh.  "Thank 
you,  Mr.  Keedy,  but  I  do  not  need  your  invitation  to 
stay." 

Captain  Holstrom  looked  very  sheepish.  It  was  plain 
that  he  had  been  listening  to  some  plain  and  frank  opinions 
on  his  way  back  from  the  ferry  station. 

He  tried  to  act  unconcerned,  and  spying  the  drink  I 
had  not  touched,  started  to  lift  it  to  his  lips.  His  daughter 
snatched  it  away  and  sprayed  the  liquor  on  the  wall. 
He  sat  down,  coughing  behind  his  hand.  I  had  seen 
men  like  Capt.  Rask  Holstrom  before — a  bully  and  a 
braggart  among  men,  but  half  a  fool  where  women  were 
concerned — pliable  in  the  hands  of  the  loose  female,  and 
mortally  afraid  of  his  own  womenkind. 

The  men  in  the  room  were  silent  for  some  time.  Keedy 
was  looking  at  Holstrom;  then  his  eyes  fell  on  my  canvas 
sack  at  Holstrom's  feet.  He  spoke  to  me  in  almost  the 
same  fawning  tone  he  had  used  with  the  girl.  It  was  that 
almost  indescribable  air — that  cheap  assumption  of 
gentility  that  a  professional  gambler  uses  when  he  is 
prosecuting  his  business,  and  it  rather  jars  on  an  honest 
man. 

323 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"I'm  sure  it  would  be  almighty  interesting  to  me  and 
to  these  other  gents  and  the  lady  to  see  an  Eastern  diving- 
Suit.  I  reckon  you're  pretty  much  up  to  date  back  there." 

Liar  and  knave  himself,  he  wasn't  exactly  sure  I  had 
been  telling  the  truth.  He  wanted  to  see  the  goods.  But 
I  did  not  mind  much.  I  knelt  on  the  floor,  and  opened 
the  sack  and  dug  out  the  equipment.  This  yarn  of  mine 
goes  back  before  the  days  of  the  compressed-air  chamber 
which  the  modern  diver  carries  on  his  back  just  as  an  auto- 
mobile carries  fuel.  But  I  had  a  mighty  good  suit,  almost 
a  new  one.  There  wasn't  a  dent  in  the  helmet  or  a  patch 
on  the  rubber  or  canvas. 

"We  have  had  a  long  talk,  this  gent  and  I,"  said  Keedy, 
after  he  had  squatted  like  a  frog  and  had  peered  at  all  I 
had  to  show  him.  "I'm  naturally  a  man  to  get  to  cases 
quick.  I'm  open  and  free  with  them  I  take  a  liking  to." 

He  went  to  the  door  and  peeked  into  the  corridor. 

"Number-two  Jones,  you  stand  here  and  keep  an  eye 
and  ear  out,"  he  directed.  "Now,  Brother  Sidney,  you 
Eastern  chaps  are  apt  to  be  pretty  cold-blooded,  and  you 
need  first-hand  evidence.  I'm  going  to  open  up  to  you 
one  of  the  biggest  prospects  you  ever  heard  of — reckon- 
ing that,  as  a  human  being,  you  simply  can't  resist  coming 
into  it.  If  you  don't  see  fit  to  come  in  after  it  has  been 
opened  up  to  you — well — "  He  scowled  at  me  like  a 
demon,  snapped  his  ringers  above  his  head,  and  turned  on 
old  Ike. 

"Get  up  and  take  the  floor,"  he  directed. 

"First-hand  evidence  is  what  counts,"  went  on  Mr. 
Keedy.  "Now,  here's  a  man  who  has  told  his  story  over 
a  lot  of  times  on  the  water-front.  He  has  told  it  so  many 
times  it  has  grown  to  be  a  joke.  They've  given  him  the 
nickname  of  'Ingot  Ike.'  Lots  of  big  things  in  this  world 
have  been  buried  under  a  joke." 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  twisted  up  the  ends  of 
his  mustache. 

"Court  is  open  for  first-hand  evidence,  gents.  Ike  is 

324 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

the  first  witness.  I'm  going  to  ask  him  questions  and 
make  him  answer  snappy,  for  if  he  ever  gets  to  rambling 
on  this  story  of  his  he'll  make  it  longer  than  a  dime  novel. 
Look-a-here,  Ike,  what  was  the  steamer  Golden  Gate?" 

"Passengers,  bullion  in  ingots,  and  general  cargo 
'tween  here  and  Panama." 

It  was  rather  comical  to  see  that  old  bean-pole  straighten 
up  and  try  to  imitate  the  snappy  style  of  Mr.  Keedy. 

"What  was  your  job  aboard  of  her?" 

' '  Quartermaster. ' ' 

"What  happened  to  her?" 

"Caught  fire  off  coast  of  Mexico  when  she  was  bound 
for  Panama,  beached  well  north  of  Acapulco,  rolled  over 
and  over  in  surf,  what  was  left  of  her,  and  bones  still 
there.  Three  ribs  show  at  low  tide  if  you  know  where  to 
look  for  'em." 

"What  was  she  carrying  for  treasure?" 

"Over  three  million  dollars'  worth  of  gold  in  ingots  in 
her  strong-room  abaft  second  bulkhead,  between  pantry 
and  boiler-room." 

"Was  the  treasure  ever  recovered?" 

"Wreck  was  abandoned  to  underwriters,  and  after 
underwriters  had  worked  for  a  long  time,  keeping  very 
mysterious,  they  reported  that  they  had  got  the  ingots 
all  out  of  her.  Then  they  came  away.  Everybody  be- 
lieved that  the  underwriters  had  cleaned  out  the  wreck, 
just  as  they  reported  they  had.  But  I  was  in  that  wreck- 
ing crew.  I  kept  my  eye  out.  It  was  a  bluff  about 
getting  that  treasure."  The  old  man  began  to  show 
excitement.  "Their  divers  couldn't  get  at  it.  They  didn't 
have  nerve,  and  they  didn't  have  the  right  outfits  in  those 
days.  The  underwriters  didn't  want  it  shown  that  they 
hadn't  pulled  up  the  stuff.  They  knew  that  every  Tom, 
Dick,  and  Harry  would  go  down  there,  peeking  and  poking 
around  that  wreck,  and  that  some  fellow  might  think  up 
a  way  to  call  the  turn. 

"So  they  bribed  the  divers,  and  the  divers  brought  up 

325 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

fake  boxes  of  gold,  and  the  report  was  made  that  all  the 
treasure  had  been  taken  from  the  Golden  Gate  wreck. 
But  it's  all  there,  gents.  The  underwriters  haven't  been 
able  yet  to  think  of  a  sensible  way  of  getting  at  it.  They 
don't  want  to  make  another  splurge  and  attract  attention 
till  they're  sure  of  what  they're  doing.  Them's  facts 
what  I'm  telling.  I  know.  I  haven't  done  much  of  any- 
thing but  keep  tabs.  I  don't  care  if  they  do  call  me  Ingot 
Ike.  I  know  what  I'm  talking  about.  The  trouble  down 
there  has  been  that  the  old  Pacific  has  rolled  on  and 
rolled  in  and  piled  up  sand  over  that  treasure,  and  they 
didn't  know  how  to  handle  the  proposition  in  those  days." 

"The  idea  is,  Brother  Sidney,"  broke  in  Keedy,  "first- 
hand evidence  informs  us  that  three  or  four  millions  are 
cached  in  a  place  we  know  of.  Now,  because  man  has 
failed  once,  years  ago,  when  man  wasn't  as  bright  as  he 
is  now,  is  that  any  sign  that  man  shall  give  up?  Captain 
Holstrom  and  I  say,  'No.'  We're  partners.  We  have 
been  talking  over  this  proposition  for  a  long  time.  Now, 
up  to  date,  are  you  in  any  way  interested?" 

I  was,  and  I  said  so. 

"There  they  lie,"  said  Keedy,  "bars  of  yellow  gold. 
Boxes  and  boxes  of  shiny  gold.  More  than  three  million 
dollars'  worth  of  finest  gold — and  only  a  little  water  and 
sand  over  'em.  No  bars  to  break  through,  no  vaults  to 
drill.  Only  sand  and  water — and  we  ought  to  be  able  to 
match  that  sand  with  grit,  and  the  water  with  good  red 
blood." 

There  are  some  men  who  can  talk  about  money,  and  it 
will  not  start  a  thrill  in  you. 

Marcena  Keedy  could  talk  about  gold  in  a  way  to  make 
your  soul  hungry.  He  rolled  the  sound  in  his  mouth — a 
big,  round,  juicy  sound — as  a  boy  sucks  a  candy  marble. 
It  made  the  moisture  ooze  in  my  own  mouth  to  hear  him 
talk. 

Mr.  Keedy  gave  over  leaning  back  in  his  chair.  He  sat 
on  the  edge  of  it,  and  leaned  forward. 

326 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"It's  right  at  this  point  that  we  go  into  this  thing 
clear  to  the  necks,  my  friend.  I  have  studied  men  a  lot 
in  my  life.  I  can  see  about  what  kind  of  a  fellow  you 
are.  If  another  fellow  opens  up  to  you  in  honest  fashion 
you  are  with  him — and  if  you  can't  stay  with  him  you  are 
not  going  off  and  squeal  and  hurt  him.  There's  nothing 
half-way  between  Holstrom,  here,  and  myself.  We're 
partners.  We're  in  together,  whole  hog.  I'll  spread  the 
cards  for  you  just  as  they  are  spread  for  the  captain  and 
myself.  He  and  I  have  been  having  a  run  of  good  luck 
to  date  in  our  partnership.  We'll  have  some  more  first- 
hand evidence.  Rask,  how  was  it  you  got  the  inside 
clinch  in  the  Zizania  matter?" 

"For  the  benefit  of  a  man  from  the  East,  where  they 
ain't  as  shrewd  as  the  Yankees  think  they  be,"  stated 
Captain  Holstrom  in  his  husky  voice,  "I  will  say  that 
we've  got  a  devilish  good  close  combine  on  the  water- 
front— we  fellows  have  been  on  the  job  for  a  long  time. 
When  the  Government  auctions  off  anything  we  get  to- 
gether and  fix  the  top  price  at  which  any  bid  shall  go, 
and  then  we  cut  the  cards  to  settle  who  shall  pick  the 
plum  at  that  price.  It  means  that  the  lucky  man  will 
pick  a  bargain,  don't  forget  that.  Price  can't  be  budged 
above  that  bid — and  it's  a  blamed  measly  price."  He 
smacked  his  lips.  "So  that  is  how  I  have  got  hold  of  the 
old  Zizania,  Government  lighthouse  -  tender  and  buoy 
steamer,  side-wheeler,  one  hundred  and  seventy  feet  long, 
new  derricks,  boilers  in  fair  shape,  and  engine  fresh  over- 
hauled. I've  cut  the  cards  for  eleven  years,  and  this  has 
been  my  first  look-in.  But  it's  worth  waiting  for.  I 
could  junk  her  and  make  four  times  what  I  pay  for  her." 

"What  we  pay  for  her,"  corrected  Mr.  Keedy.  "Re- 
member that  I'm  your  partner.  Now  I'll  take  the  stand 
myself.  Holstrom  here  sold  his  tugboat  the  minute  he 
struck  luck  on  the  Zizania.  He  pulled  what  money  he 
had  in  the  bank.  He  lacked  half  the  price,  at  that.  He 
was  going  to  borrow  on  a  bill  of  sale.  '  No,'  says  I  to  him. 
22  327 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

'Bring  along  your  cash  to  the  place  where  I'm  dealing 
faro.  I'll  go  in  partner  with  you  and  double  your  pot.' 
Holstrom  knew  that  when  I  talked  that  way  with  him  I 
was  square.  Some  men  would  have  double-crossed  him 
and  pulled  the  pickings  for  the  bank.  I  ain't  that  kind," 
declared  Mr.  Keedy,  pulling  himself  up  virtuously  and 
giving  the  girl  a  side-glance.  "  I  know  who  my  friends  are, 
and  who  I'd  like  to  help.  And  I  can  deal  faro!  Don't 
worry  about  that!  Captain  Holstrom  walked  out  with 
his  pot  doubled.  The  money  goes  down  on  the  Zizania 
to-morrow  morning,  making  up  the  balance  after  the  for- 
feit money  was  paid.  That's  the  way  Holstrom  and  I 
do  business  after  we  have  come  to  an  agreement."  He 
gave  the  girl  a  look  which  he  intended  to  be  melting. 
"I  said  I'd  do  it,  and  I  did  it." 

"I'm  ashamed  of  my  father,"  she  said,  crisply. 

"I  don't  much  blame  you,  Kama,"  stammered  Captain 
Holstrom,  missing  the  point  of  her  rebuke.  "For  me  to 
go  and  do  what  I  done  after  scooping  in  that  money  was  a 
fool  performance,  and  I  ask  the  pardon  of  all  concerned. 
But  I  reckon  my  head  was  turned  by  having  all  that  good 
luck  come  in  a  bunch.  I  just  went  into  the  air,  that's 
what  I  done.  But  I'm  back  on  earth  to  stay  now." 

"Let  us  hope  so,  partner,"  chided  Mr.  Keedy.  "That 
crazy  Beason  and  our  new  friend  here  made  such  a  racket 
chasing  you  through  the  Coast  that  I  heard  of  it,  and 
started  out  on  the  chase  myself.  It  has  turned  out  lucky, 
but  that's  no  credit  to  you." 

The  girl  stood  up.  "I  have  listened,  and  now  I  under- 
stand. If  you  want  to  keep  my  respect,  father,  you'll 
hand  back  the  part  of  that  money  which  is  stolen,  and 
borrow  enough  to  make  your  payment." 

"Hold  on,  Miss  Kama!"  cried  Keedy.  "That  money 
wasn't  stolen.  A  man  who  tackles  a  faro -bank  isn't 
stealing  if  he  wins." 

"I  heard  what  you  said  a  few  minutes  ago,  Mr.  Keedy." 

"And  I  said  it  to  show  I  can  be  a  friend  to  those  I  like. 
328 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I've  known  you  a  long  time,  and  now  when  I've  had  a 
chance  to  show  you  that  I'm  a  friend  you  can't  afford 
to  chuck  me." 

He  jumped  up  and  went  near  to  her. 

"No  more  faro  for  me — no  cards  any  more,"  he  said, 
dusting  his  hands  before  her.  "I  know  you  haven't  liked 
to  have  me  do  it." 

"I  have  never  made  any  remarks  to  you  about  your 
affairs,  Mr.  Keedy.  It's  only  when  my  father  gets  mixed 
into  them  that  I  protest." 

"  I  reckon  that  after  all  the  years  I've  dealt  crooked  for 
the  sake  of  the  bank  I've  got  the  right  to  deal  crooked  for 
once  in  my  life  to  help  my  friends,"  muttered  Keedy. 
"But  I'm  all  done  with  faro,  I  tell  you,  Kama.  We're 
all  going  to  be  rich.  I  want  you  to  remember  that  I've 
done  my  full  share  in  this  thing." 

Captain  Holstrom  banged  the  sacks  of  coin  upon  the 
table. 

"  You  bet  you  have,  Marcena.  And  you're  my  partner. 
I  stand  by  you.  I  never  saw  a  girl  yet  who  didn't  have 
foolish  notions.  But  they  grow  out  of  them."  He  winked 
at  Keedy.  "This  money  goes  down  on  the  old  Zizania 
to-morrow  morning.  She's  ours  from  snout  to  tail — from 
keelson  to  pennant  block.  And  she's  going  to  make  our 
everlasting  fortunes.  You  shall  see,  Kama,  my  girl!" 

For  a  moment  she  stood  there,  her  eyes  narrowed,  her 
cheeks  flaming  up,  as  fine  a  picture  of  protesting  and  in- 
dignant maidenhood  as  I  ever  laid  eyes  on.  Then  she 
compressed  her  lips  and  choked  back  an  outburst. 

"Yes,  I  shall  see,"  she  said  at  last.  "For  I  shall  go  on 
board  the  Zizania,  and  stay  there  and  watch  you,  father, 
and  try  to  keep  you  out  of  State's  prison  for  the  sake  of 
my  poor  dead  mother." 

"It  has  been  all  right  for  you  to  live  with  me  aboard 
the  tug,"  growled  Captain  Holstrom,  blinking  sourly  at 
her.  "But  this  is  a  different  proposition.  This  is  going 
to  be  a  man's  game." 

329 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"With  one  woman  along,"  she  insisted. 

"You  have  got  to  stay  here  in  the  city,"  he  declared. 

"If  you  leave  me  here  alone,  deserting  me  for  men 
who  are  leading  you  into  dangers  and  trouble,  you'll  find 
me  dancing  in  one  of  the  worst  holes  on  this  street  when 
you  come  back.  I  swear  it!"  she  said. 

She  did  not  raise  her  voice.  There  was  no  elocution, 
and  hysterics  were  absent.  But  there  are  women  who  can 
say  a  thing  and  make  you  believe  it.  Captain  Holstrom 
cracked  his  knuckles  and  gasped,  and  said  nothing. 
Keedy  ran  his  thin. tongue  along  the  line  of  his  sooty 
mustache. 

"As  a  partner,  I'm  in  favor  of  keeping  a  good  girl  near 
her  father,"  said  he. 

"You  are  not  a  partner  in  my  family  affairs,  Mr. 
Keedy!"  cried  the  girl,  hotly. 

Keedy,  much  embarrassed,  and  willing  to  hide  his 
feelings,  turned  to  me. 

"We  seem  to  be  drifting  off  the  main  subject,  Brother 
Sidney."  I  wanted  to  yank  him  up  for  calling  me  by 
that  title — resentment  surged  in  me  as  hotly  as  it  did  in 
the  girl.  There  are  some  men  who  seem  to  make  your 
soul  feel  sticky  when  they  try  to  be  intimate. 

I  told  him  I'd  like  a  night  to  think  the  matter  over. 

"All  right,"  said  Keedy,  dryly;  "I'll  take  you  with  me 
to  a  place  where  you  can  do  some  steady  thinking  and 
won't  be  bothered.  Stuff  your  things  back  into  your  bag." 

As  I  plodded  along  the  narrow  street  with  him,  my  sack 
propped  on  my  shoulder,  Captain  Holstrom  and  his 
daughter  passed  me  in  a  cab. 

Mr.  Keedy's  voice  and  manner  were  well  padded  with 
velvet  that  night,  but  he  couldn't  fool  me.  He  caged  me — • 
that's  what  he  did.  I  remember  that  I  slept  in  a  closet 
of  a  room,  and  Mr.  Keedy  was  on  a  cot  in  the  room  which 
opened  into  the  hall.  I  didn't  mind  any  of  his  precau- 
tions. I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  go  along.  I  was  dog- 
tired  and  slept  all  night. 

330 


XXVIII 

SORTING  THE   CHECKER-BOARD   CREW 

MR.  KEEDY  evidently  desired  to  impress  on  me  that 
his  hankering  to  make  sure  of  my  company  during 
the  night  was  inspired  by  pure  and  sudden  friendship. 

When  he  came  to  awaken  me  his  mustache  was  lifted 
so  high  in  an  amiable  smile  that  the  twin  sooty  wings 
seemed  to  stick  out  of  his  nostrils.  He  hoped  I  was 
getting  to  like  the  West  and  the  folks  there.  I  returned 
that  up  to  date  I  had  not  been  homesick — a  conservative 
statement,  and  true;  I  had  had  no  time  to  be  homesick. 

He  paid  for  my  breakfast ;  further  evidence  of  friend- 
ship. Then  he  called  a  cab  and  took  me  and  my  belong- 
ings down  to  the  berth  of  the  Zizania.  The  old  steamer 
was  docked  in  a  place  which,  so  he  told  me,  was  the 
China  Basin,  and  we  wormed  our  way  through  alleys  and 
junk-piles  and  got  aboard. 

We  hadn't  hurried  that  morning,  and  the  time  was  well 
into  the  middle  of  the  forenoon. 

Captain  Holstrom  was  stubbing  to  and  fro  on  the  main 
deck.  He  wore  a  fine  air  of  proprietorship,  and  welcomed  us 
with  a  flourish  of  his  hand.  He  patted  his  breast,  and  the 
crackle  of  paper  sounded. 

' '  Money  paid, ' '  he  reported.  ' '  Them's  the  dockyments . 
Come  up  into  the  wheel-house.  There's  the  place  to  talk 
the  rest  of  our  business." 

Marcena  Keedy  did  most  of  the  talking  that  forenoon. 
He  loved  to  lollop  the  words  "three  million  dollars'  worth 
of  gold  ingots"  in  his  mouth.  He  had  wormed  out  of  me 
at  breakfast-time  admissions  enough  so  that  he  knew  I 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

was  favorably  disposed.  He  proposed  to  try  to  take 
advantage  of  me  and  I  saw  his  game  and  resolved  to  do 
some  bluffing  on  my  own  part.  He  put  a  lot  of  verbal 
plush  around  his  propositions,  but  I  could  feel  the  hard 
nub  just  the  same. 

After  all  that  conversational  fluff  he  wanted  me  to  sign 
a  contract  to  take  day's  wages  for  the  job — double  pay 
for  the  days  when  I  recovered  any  gold. 

I  turned  that  wages  suggestion  down,  flat  and  final. 
You  would  have  thought  I  had  money  plastered  all  over 
me. 

"It  has  got  to  be  on  shares,"  I  said. 

"You  doggone  bean-eater,  have  you  got  the  nerve  to 
talk  shares  on  an  investment  of  a  diving-suit  against  our 
steamer  and  our  information  about  the  Golden  Gate?" 
stuttered  Keedy. 

"That  isn't  the  way  the  thing  shakes  down,  Mr. 
Keedy.  You  have  made  it  plain  to  me  that  you're 
gambling  in  this — it  isn't  a  straight  deal." 

He  swore  at  me,  but  I  didn't  mean  the  thing  the  way  he 
took  it. 

"If  you  were  going  down  there,"  I  said,  "with  a  big 
expedition,  and  proposed  to  build  coffer-dams,  and  all 
that,  and  go  at  it  scientific  fashion,  I  would  hire  as  a 
regular  diver.  I  couldn't  demand  anything  else.  But 
I'm  not  merely  investing  a  diving-suit,  as  it  stands.  I'm 
playing  a  lone  hand  in  the  diving  part  of  the  scheme; 
I'm  investing  all  my  experience,  all  my  skill;  I'm  invest- 
ing life  itself.,  for,  as  near  as  I  can  find  out  from  what 
you  say,  it  will  be  up  to  me  to  know  how  to  get  that  gold, 
and  then  go  get  it.  I  want  one-third  of  the  velvet  after 
all  bills  are  paid,  and  I  want  a  contract  drawn  before  I 
start." 

Perhaps  I  wouldn't  have  jabbed  the  thing  so  hard  at 
Holstrom,  but  I  did  not  propose  to  be  the  monkey  for 
Keedy.  I  looked  innocent  and  suggested  that  they'd  bet- 
ter talk  with  another  diver.  Keedy  flapped  like  a  speared 

332 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

fish  for  half  an  hour — and  then  he  came  over.  Captain 
Holstrom  walked  up  and  down  with  his  hands  behind  his 
back  during  all  the  talk.  I  judged  from  his  general  air 
that  he  was  viewing  the  whole  thing  as  more  or  less  of  a 
dream,  and  did  not  want  to  get  too  wide  awake  about  it 
from  fear  of  losing  courage  and  interest. 

"There's  one  thing  about  it — you'll  work  harder  if  you 
have  a  lay,"  said  Keedy. 

That's  usually  the  way  with  the  grafter  or  loafer — he's 
afraid  the  other  fellow  won't  work  hard  enough. 

Frankly,  I  did  not  have  any  very  brilliant  hopes  in 
regard  to  that  expedition,  for  if  old  Ingot  Ike  had  told  the 
truth  about  the  failure  of  the  underwriters,  I  figured  that 
the  diving  proposition  must  be  a  tough  one.  Keedy  was 
hot  about  it,  for  he  did  not  know  enough  about  such  work  to 
judge  chances;  as  for  Captain  Holstrom,  ever  since  he  had 
won  this  Zizania  elephant  he  was  in  a  state  of  mind  which 
made  him  ready  for  any  project,  even  to  putting  wings 
on  her  and  starting  for  the  moon. 

I  didn't  pay  much  attention  to  the  outfitting,  except  to 
make  a  list  of  such  equipment  in  the  way  of  lines,  hose,  air- 
pumps,  and  such  matters  as  I  needed  for  my  part  of  the 
work.  Keedy  and  Holstrom  turned  around  and  borrowed 
money  on  the  security  of  the  steamer,  this  debt  to  stand 
against  our  partnership.  Keedy  seemed  so  sure  of  that 
gold  that  he  did  not  stop  to  ask  me  how  I  was  fixed  to 
stand  my  share  in  case  of  utter  failure.  Therefore,  with 
plenty  of  funds  to  work  with,  we  were  ready  for  sea  in 
short  order,  and  to  sea  we  went,  swashing  out  past  Point 
Lobos,  the  sea-lions  hooting  at  us  as  we  passed  their  rocks, 
and  started  down  the  coast. 

I  leaned  over  the  rail  and  watched  the  shore  melt  in  the 
hazy  distance,  and  did  not  blame  the  sea-lions  for  their 
derogatory  remarks.  I  did  not  know  much  about  steam- 
ers, but  I  realized  that  the  Zizania,  condemned  Govern- 
ment tub,  wasn't  anything  to  brag  about.  She  was  a  real 
old  ocean-walloper,  a  broad-beamed  duck  of  a  thing, 

333 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

thrashing  her  warped  paddles,  her  rusty  walking-beam 
groaning,  her  patched  boilers  wheezing — a  weather-worn, 
gray,  and  grunting  ocean  tramp. 

Like  all  craft  of  the  buoy-boat  model,  she  had  much 
deck  room  forward  of  the  bridge,  and  here  were  nested, 
as  dories  are  nested  on  a  Gloucester  trawler,  four  forty- 
foot  lighters.  Plenty  of  anchors  accompanied  these  scows 
— huge,  rusty  second-hand  anchors  which  Captain  Hols- 
trom  had  bought  from  junkmen.  The  Zizania  was 
naturally  slow,  and  this  load  forward  now  made  a  snail 
of  her.  Hawsers  and  chains  encumbered  her  deck  space 
everywhere — age-blackened  ropes,  and  iron  from  which 
rust  scales  were  dropping.  Captain  Holstrom  had  ran- 
sacked the  wharfs  for  hand-me-downs.  Even  the  men 
whom  he  had  shipped  looked  as  though  he  had  secured 
them  at  a  rummage  sale. 

"It's  a  checker-board  crew,"  the  captain  had  informed 
me  as  they  straggled  on  board.  "Half  black  men,  and 
half  white.  That's  the  only  way  to  sort  men  when 
you're  bound  on  a  long  cruise.  Keep  the  blacks  mad  with 
the  whites,  and  vitchy  vici,  and  you've  always  got  half 
the  crew  on  your  side  in  case  of  trouble.  There  can't  any 
general  mutinies  start  when  you've  got  a  checker-board 
crew.  Number-one  Jones  has  the  white  men's  watch; 
Number-two  Jones  has  the  black  watch;  and  as  soon  as 
we  get  this  stuff  stored  and  the  rest  moused  on  deck  I'll 
have  Number-one  sick  his  bunch  on  to  Number-two's, 
and  let  'em  fight  long  enough  to  get  good  and  mad.  Then 
they'll  sort  of  neutralize  each  other  for  the  rest  of  the 
cruise." 

That  system  of  gentle  diplomacy  was  new  to  me,  and 
I  loafed  around  and  kept  an  eye  out,  for  I  have  always  had 
a  hearty  relish  for  an  honest  scrap.  Furthermore,  in  ex- 
plaining to  me  later,  the  captain  had  stated  that  I  was  ex- 
pected to  jump  in  with  himself  and  the  mates  and  break  up 
the  fight  with  clubs  when  it  had  progressed  far  enough. 

"You  see,  we  want  to  leave  both  sides  mad  and  neither 

334 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

side  licked, ' '  said  Captain  Holstrom.  ' '  It  will  be  like  cook- 
ing in  a  hot  oven.  The  thing  mustn't  get  scorched  on.  I 
know  how  to  handle  it.  Jump  in  when  I  say  the  word." 

He  had  given  me  these  instructions  leaning  over  the 
sill  of  the  pilot-house  window  soon  after  we  had  got  away 
from  the  dock. 

"Not  that  the  doodah  will  start  for  some  time  yet," 
he  added.  "But  I'm  a  great  hand  to  have  things  all 
ready  and  understood.  You  can  be  looking  up  your  club 
between  now  and  to-morrow." 

I  glanced  into  the  wheel-house  as  I  walked  on.  Marcena 
Keedy  lounged  in  solitary  state  on  the  transom  seat  at  the 
rear,  puffing  away  at  a  cigar. 

"You're  always  welcome  in  here,"  he  called.  But  I 
had  no  appetite  for  the  companionship  of  Mr.  Keedy. 

It  occurred  to  me,  with  just  a  bit  of  relish  in  the  thought, 
that  Miss  Kama  Holstrom  probably  was  of  similar  mind 
in  regard  to  Mr.  Keedy.  She  had  taken  a  seat  in  the 
wheel-house  when  she  had  come  on  board  that  day.  Now 
she  was  in  her  state-room,  which  was  the  cabin  on  the 
upper  deck  near  the  bridge,  planned  as  the  captain's 
apartment.  Either  she  had  pre-empted  it  or  Captain 
Holstrom  had  assigned  her  to  it.  I  had  seen  that  the 
Joneses — Number-one  and  Number-two — were  in  berths 
near  my  quarters  below,  and  it  was  plain  that  partners 
Holstrom  and  Keedy  had  quartered  themselves  in  the 
mates'  room  on  the  upper  deck. 

Miss  Holstrom's  door  was  on  the  hook,  and  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  her  more  by  accident  than  by  design.  She 
nodded  without  speaking,  and  I  raised  my  cap  and  went 
below  to  the  main  deck. 

I  got  there  in  season  to  see  the  lighting  of  a  fuse  which 
exploded  Captain  Holstrom's  "  checker  -  board  "  plans 
ahead  of  scheduled  time. 

The  first  man  I  met  on  the  deck  was  Ingot  Ike.  He  was 
gnawing  at  a  hunk  of  gingerbread  with  his  snags  of  teeth, 
and  was  grinning  amiably. 

335 


"This  is  going  to  be  a  comfortable  trip  for  me,"  he  con- 
fided. "I  find  I  know  the  cook.  It's  a  lucky  thing  if  you 
stand  in  well  with  the  cook.  Him  and  me  was  shipmates 
together  on  a  Vancouver  packet.  He's  the  Snohomish 
Glutton."  He  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  at  me  as  though 
he  expected  that  I  would  show  astonishment.  "  I  said — 
fee's  the  Snohomish  Glutton,"  he  repeated,  more  loudly. 

But  my  face  remained  blank. 

"You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  never  heard  of 
the  Snohomish  Glutton!" 

I  shook  my  head. 

"Younev —  You  don't —  You  ain't  ever — "  Ike  took 
another  drag  at  the  gingerbread,  and  swallowed  hard. 
"Why,  the  Snohomish  Glutton  is  known — the  Snohomish 
Glutton,  he  has  eat  at  one  setting —  Oh,  shucks,  if  you  ain't 
ever  heard,  what's  the  use!"  He  started  on,  but  whirled 
and  came  back  and  shook  the  hunk  of  gingerbread  under 
my  nose.  "I  suppose  if  it  had  been  writ  and  printed  in 
a  book  you  Eastern  perfessers  would  know  all  about  it. 
Thank  God,  in  the  West  we  know  a  lot  of  things  that 
ain't  printed  in  a  book!"  Then  he  stumped  away. 

Well,  I  concluded  I  would  stroll  along  to  the  galley 
and  take  a  look  at  the  cook,  and  be  able  thereafter  to  say 
that  at  least  I  had  seen  this  notable  of  the  Pacific. 

There  was  a  spacious  galley  on  the  old  Zizania.  I 
looked  in  through  an  open  window  which  commanded  the 
port  alley.  A  fat  man  was  chopping  kindlings.  He  was 
a  thing  of  rolls  and  folds  of  fat — a  gob  of  a  man.  There 
were  narrow  slits  near  his  nose  marking  his  eyes,  but  his 
eyes  seemed  to  be  shut  by  fat.  A  little,  round,  pursed-up 
mouth  was  in  the  middle  of  his  face,  and  from  this  came 
wheezy  grunts  as  he  chopped. 

While  I  was  watching  him,  an  object  bounded  into  the 
galley  door  and  leapfrogged  him,  darting  past  me  through 
the  window.  Before  I  could  turn  my  head  the  thing,  what- 
ever it  was,  had  disappeared  around  the  corner  of  the  alley. 

The  cook  straightened  up,  and  by  an  effort  opened  his 

336 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

eyes  enough  to  stare  at  me.    I  expected  a  deep,  gruff 
voice.    But  he  had  a  real  tin-whistle  pipe. 

"What  did  you  throw  at  me?" 

"I  didn't  throw  anything.  Something  rushed  through 
the  galley — I  didn't  see  what." 

"Things  don't  hit  a  man  unless  they  are  thrown,"  he 
insisted.  "I  may  look  funny,  but  I  ain't  funny.  I 
don't  relish  having  things  thrown  at  me." 

He  gave  up  trying  to  hold  his  eyes  open,  and  went  on 
chopping. 

I  was  getting  my  breath  ready  to  protest  when  the  thing 
came  through  once  more.  It  was  a  monkey.  But  it 
missed  the  cook's  back,  for  the  broad  shoulders  heaved  as 
the  ax  came  up.  The  monkey  slipped,  slid  across  the 
chopping-block,  and  down  came  the  ax.  The  animal 
squealed  horribly,  flung  itself  past  me  through  the  open 
window,  and  fled.  It  went  like  a  shot,  but  I  got  the 
fleeting  impression  that  its  tail  was  gone. 

"What  did  you  do  then?"  asked  the  cook,  squinting  at 
me  suspiciously. 

"I  tell  you  I  haven't  done  anything  at  all.  That  was 
a  monkey.  He  came  from  somewhere.  He  ran  through 
here.  I  think  you  have  cut  off  his  tail."  He  peered 
about.  "There  ain't  no  tail  here,"  he  whined.  "There 
couldn't  have  been  any  monkey  here.  This  ain't  any 
place  for  a  monkey  to  be.  There  may  be  monkey  business 
here — and  you're  getting  it  up.  You  go  away  from  here !" 

I'm  afraid  the  Snohomish  Glutton  and  I  would  have 
had  trouble  then  and  there,  but  just  then  a  man  came 
rushing  into  the  door  of  the  galley.  He  had  the  monkey 
under  his  arm,  upside  down,  and  he  was  pointing  quiver- 
ing finger  at  a  bleeding  stump  of  a  tail.  I  couldn't  under- 
stand what  he  was  bawling.  I  found  out  afterward  that 
he  was  a  Russian  Finn  and  could  command  only  a  few 
English  words  even  when  he  was  perfectly  calm.  He  was 
not  calm  now.  I  never  heard  a  man  rave  so.  The  monkey 
joined  him  with  hideous  screams. 

337 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

The  cook  listened  for  a  time,  puckering  his  fat  forehead. 
When  he  found  that  the  man  was  talking  a  foreign 
language  he  upraised  his  ax  and  swished  it  around  in 
circles  near  the  Finn's  head.  A  cook  in  his  galley  is  lord 
supreme  in  his  domain,  and  the  sailor  probably  knew  as 
much.  The  ax  was  menacing;  it  was  coming  very  close, 
and  the  Finn  already  had  one  exhibit  of  that  cook's 
ferocity  under  his  arm.  He  allowed  himself  to  be  backed 
out,  and  the  cook  slammed  and  barred  the  door. 

"What  did  he  say?"  he  asked  me,  in  his  piping  tones. 

"I  don't  know  what  he  said." 

"I  reckoned  it  was  some  kind  of  Dago  swearing,  and  I 
don't  allow  a  man  to  swear  at  me.  Most  likely  it  was 
swearing." 

"  You  cut  off  that  monkey's  tail,"  I  insisted.  "  I  thought 
so  when  he  squealed.  Now  I'm  sure  of  it." 

He  went  to  peering  around  again,  whining  to  himself 
like  a  fat  porcupine  who  is  being  badgered. 

"There  ain't  no  tail  here.  I  didn't  cut  off  his  tail.  I 
didn't  see  him  so  that  I  could  cut  off  his  tail."  He  started 
toward  the  window  with  a  look  as  if  he  proposed  to  resent 
my  suggestion  that  he  had  been  cutting  off  monkeys' 
tails.  I  passed  on.  I  figured  that  I  might  as  well  try  to 
argue  with  a  Sussex  shote  as  with  that  shapeless  mass  of 
fat.  I  would  have  saved  a  nasty  bit  of  trouble  for  myself, 
perhaps,  if  I  had  remained  and  argued.  And  my  trouble 
later  that  day — and  that  monkey  with  the  missing  tail — 
was  the  seed  from  which —  But  that's  getting  ahead 
of  the  story. 

There  were  really  three  messes  aboard  the  Zizania. 
There  was  the  captain's  mess  aft,  with  special  dishes, 
which  was  entirely  distinct  from  the  crew's  food.  On  the 
port  side  was  set  out  the  food  for  the  black  half  of  the 
checker-board  crew,  and  on  the  starboard  side  the  white 
half  received  their  provender. 

We  were  at  dinner  in  the  captain's  mess.  It  was  our 
first  meal  at  sea — our  first  meeting  at  table. 

338 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

When  Miss  Kama  came  in  we  were  just  sitting  down. 
The  captain  was  with  us,  having  left  one  of  the  Joneses  at 
the  wheel.  Keedy  lifted  his  paint-streak  mustache  against 
his  nose  in  a  smile,  and  pulled  out  a  chair  beside  his  own. 

"Sit  here,  my  dear,"  he  said  to  the  girl. 

She  walked  past  the  chair,  came  around  to  my  side  of 
the  table,  and  sat  down.  She  did  not  toss  her  chin  or 
sniff,  as  some  girls  would  have  done,  to  show  dislike  of 
Keedy.  She  was  a  cool  proposition,  that  girl  was. 

That  left  the  chair  beside  Keedy  the  only  vacant  one 
at  the  table.  A  plump  little  man  had  been  standing  off  at 
one  side,  waiting  for  the  last  choice  of  seats.  He  looked 
rather  bashful,  and  his  round  face  was  shining  with  soap, 
and  his  hair  was  plastered  down  at  the  sides  and  combed 
up  in  front  in  a  fancy  cowlick.  You  could  see  that  he 
realized  that  he  did  not  exactly  belong  at  that  table. 
Therefore  he  had  scrubbed  himself  up  for  the  occasion. 

Captain  Rask  Holstrom  did  not  trouble  himself  with 
any  of  the  finer  graces  of  society.  He  gruffly  introduced 
the  little  man  as  Romeo  Shank,  chief  engineer,  and  told 
Shank  to  slide  into  the  chair  beside  Keedy.  "We  ain't 
drawing  any  fine  lines  between  ship's  officers  on  this  trip," 
stated  the  captain,  bluntly,  for  the  benefit  of  all  con- 
cerned. "Get  to  table  while  the  grub  is  hot,  and  get  it 
into  you — that's  the  motto.  Business  before  style  is  the 
idea  aboard  this  boat." 

He  began  to  shovel  food  industriously  with  his  knife. 

Keedy  hitched  away  from  his  table-mate  a  few  inches, 
and  looked  across  at  me,  and  deepened  the  wrinkle  be- 
tween his  eyes.  But  he  could  not  spoil  my  appetite.  Some- 
thing else  which  happened  the  next  moment  pretty  nigh 
did  it,  though. 

A  black  man  leaped  into  the  saloon  through  the  forward 
door  by  which  the  waiter  came  and  went.  Two  other 
black  men  were  at  his  back.  They  stopped  just  inside 
the  door  and  dragged  off  their  knitted  caps.  They  had 
the  appearance  of  being  a  delegation,  and  an  excited  dele- 

339 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

gation  at  that.  It  was  plain  to  be  seen  that  they  had  come 
rushing  aft  without  stopping  to  figure  on  consequences. 
The  leader  carried  something  in  front  of  him,  and  it  was 
looped  over  the  blade  of  a  wicked-looking  knife.  He  held 
the  object  at  arm's  length  toward  Captain  Holstrom, 
pointed  at  it  with  the  vibrating  finger  of  his  left  hand, 
and  yelped  shrilly  like  a  dog.  He  was  too  excited  and  too 
furious  to  put  his  complaint  into  words. 

"What  have  ye  got  there — a  snake?"  yelped  the  captain, 
gulping  down  a  mouthful,  and  wrinkling  his  nose  like  one 
who  had  suddenly  come  upon  something  disgusting. 

"  We  find  him  in  our  kittle — we  find  him  dere.  Yassuh ! 
We  eat  'most  to  de  bottom,  and  den  we  find  him,"  raved 
the  negro. 

Captain  Holstrom  snapped  up  from  the  table  and 
strode  over  and  squinted  at  the  object  which  dangled 
from  the  knife  blade. 

44  Dey  cook  for  us  in  our  kittle  a  monkey  tail — dem  white 
men  cook  dat  for  us,  and  laugh,"  squealed  the  negro. 

"And  you  think  that  some  of  those  cheap  white  jokers 
put  it  in,  eh?" 

44  Dey  laugh  all  de  time  since  when  we  pull  him  out. 
Yassuh,  it's  a  lot  of  fun  for  dem  men." 

Captain  Holstrom  rubbed  his  nose  thoughtfully,  and 
stared  down  on  the  thing  which  had  savored  the  black 
men's  dinner. 

A  happy  thought  seemed  to  strike  him.  He  turned  his 
head  and  winked  at  me. 

4 'Take  that  thing  out  and  whack  it  across  the  face  of 
the  white  man  you  find  laughing  the  hardest,"  he  com- 
manded. "When  he  gets  up  to  hit  you  pitch  in."  He 
came  lurching  back  to  the  table.  4 '  I  didn't  intend  to  have 
the  row  till  to-morrow,"  he  informed  us,  in  an  undertone. 
"But  this  is  too  good  a  chance  to  miss.  We'll  get  that 
checker-board  crew  on  a  war  basis  where  they'll  stay  put." 

The  black  men  were  lingering  at  the  door,  trying  to  get 
the  captain's  meaning  through  their  wool. 

340 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

"Excuse  me,  Captain  Holstrom,"  I  said,  "but  I  think 
I  know  how  this  thing  happened — and  I  feel  it's  too  bad 
to  have  innocent  men  beaten  up."  I  started  to  tell  what 
I  had  seen,  but  he  swore  and  broke  in  on  me. 

"Don't  butt  into  something  that's  none  of  your  busi- 
ness!" he  snapped.  He  roared  at  the  men:  "Go  do  what 
I  told  you  to  do.  Go  punch  the  jokes  out  of  that  white 
gang  or  you'll  have  no  peace  the  rest  of  the  voyage. 
Get  out  of  here  before  I  kick  you  out!" 

It  sounded  like  a  very  pretty  row,  judging  it  from  where 
we  were  sitting  in  the  saloon.  It  began  in  a  very  few 
minutes. 

"Mr.  Number-two  Jones,"  directed  the  captain,  "go 
out  there  and  oversee,  and  let  me  know  when  it's  time  to 
break  the  clinch."  He  loaded  up  his  plate  once  more  and 
kept  on  eating. 

In  about  five  minutes  the  mate  returned.  "I  reckon 
it's  about  time  to  knock  'em  apart,  Captain  Holstrom,"  he 
advised,  shoving  his  head  in  at  the  door.  "No  great  harm 
done,  but  they're  chewing  each  other  bad,  and  that  means 
expense  for  plaster  and  salve." 

If  I  hadn't  already  lost  my  appetite  for  dinner,  that 
grisly  statement  from  Mr.  Number-two  Jones  would 
have  fixed  me.  I  pushed  back  from  the  table. 

"Come  along,  Sidney,"  commanded  the  captain,  kick- 
ing his  chair  out  from  under  him.  "Come  settle  your 
dinner.  I'll  find  a  club  for  you." 

"I'll  obey  the  orders  you  gave  me  first,  sir,"  I  called 
after  him;  "I  won't  butt  into  something  that's  none  of 
my  business." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say — "  He  had  stopped  and  whirled 
on  me. 

I  was  sore  because  he  had  snapped  me  up  so  short  before 
them  all.  I  thought  my  explanation  should  have  been 
considered. 

"I  mean  to  say  that  this  fight  was  needless.  You 
started  it;  now  you  can  stop  it." 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

Mr.  Keedy  had  been  lighting  a  cigar,  and  it  was  plain 
that  he  did  not  intend  to  venture  out  into  the  melee. 

"Look  here — I  tell  you  to  come  along,"  yelled  the 
captain.  "It's  your  duty." 

"Not  on  your  life.  I'm  no  ship's  officer!  I'm  along  as 
a  diver,  not  as  a  prize-fighter." 

Captain  Holstrom  looked  ugly  enough  just  then  to 
tackle  me  as  a  preface  to  his  job  forward,  but  after  cursing 
a  moment  he  followed  the  mate.  The  riot  was  increasing, 
and  it  was  plain  that  he  was  needed  in  the  field. 

Keedy  leaned  back  and  scowled  at  me  through  his  cigar 
smoke. 

"I  didn't  know  I  had  picked  a  quitter,"  he  sneered. 
"We're  tackling  a  job  that  needs  sand.  You  ain't  a  tin 
horn,  are  you?" 

I  didn't  answer  and  the  back  of  my  neck  began  to  itch ; 
I  suppose  if  I  had  had  hair  there  like  a  dog's,  the  hair 
would  have  bristled.  That  itching  in  the  neck  when 
you're  mad  is  a  survival  of  the  old  days  when  men  had 
lots  of  hair  on  'em. 

I  started  to  walk  out  of  the  saloon.  Miss  Kama  was 
sitting  there,  looking  at  us,  and  her  presence  rather  com- 
plicated matters  for  a  man  who  was  getting  madder  all 
the  time,  as  I  was.  The  other  officers  had  chased  along 
on  the  trail  of  Captain  Holstrom. 

"A  second-hand  diving-suit  doesn't  stack  up  very  high 
against  what  we're  /putting  into  this  thing — Captain 
Holstrom  and  myself,"  he  insisted.  "There  was  some- 
thing going  in  from  your  side  in  addition  to  the  diving- 
suit,  as  I  understand  it.  But  a  coward  can't  invest 
grit." 

I  stopped  at  the  door  and  walked  back  toward  him. 

"A  what?"  I  inquired. 

"I  said  'a  coward.'" 

I  slapped  him — not  hard. 

"Now  come  up  on  deck  with  me,  Mr.  Keedy.  You've 
got  to  come  after  that.  There's  a  lady  here." 

342 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"I'm  going,  gentlemen,"  said  the  girl.  "Don't  mind 
me."  She  looked  at  Keedy  and  set  her  lips. 

But  Keedy  jumped  up  and  pulled  a  gun  instead  of  put- 
ting up  his  fists. 

"I  don't  fight  that  way,  Mr.  Keedy,"  I  told  him.  "I 
have  no  gun.  You'd  better  put  yours  up.  You  can't 
afford  to  kill  me — not  yet!" 

"No — and  that's  the  devil  of  it,"  he  blurted,  after  wait- 
ing a  moment.  "You  have  taken  advantage  of — of — " 

"Of  your  hankering  to  get  money  into  your  paws,"  I 
snapped  back  at  him.  "If  you  won't  come  up  and  fight 
man  fashion,  I  can't  make  you,  but  if  you  ever  call  me  a 
coward  again  on  this  trip  I'll  put  in  a  little  evidence  to 
the  contrary  with  these."  I  showed  him  my  fists. 

He  rammed  his  revolver  into  his  hip  pocket  and 
stamped  out  of  the  saloon. 

I  found  the  girl  looking  at  me,  wrinkling  her  forehead. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Holstrom,"  I  apologized. 
"  But  an  itching  to  strike  that  man  has  been  in  my  fingers 
for  some  time." 

"You  ought  to  have  waited  until  you  had  an  excuse 
to  strike  harder  than  that,  Mr.  Sidney.  I  have  known 
Marcena  Keedy  for  a  long  time.  A  man  like  you  with  a 
big  job  ahead  ought  to  be  able  to  keep  his  eyes  to  the 
front  all  the  time.  Now  you  will  have  to  keep  looking 
behind  you.  I  say — I  have  known  Mr.  Keedy  for  a  long 
time." 

She  went  out. 

I  followed  a  few  minutes  afterward,  and  I  went  with 
my  head  down,  and  I  was  pretty  thoughtful.  Captain 
Holstrom  and  I  bumped  together  in  the  doorway.  He 
shoved  past  me  and  threw  a  club  into  a  corner. 

"I  hope  you  can  dive  better 'n  you  can  fight,"  he 
snorted. 

Then  he  bawled  to  the  waiter  and  demanded  his  piece 
of  pie. 

23  343 


XXIX 

THE   TELLTALE    RIBS 

THERE  was  nothing  especially  interesting  about  that 
prolonged  grunt  of  the  old  Zizania  down  the  Cali- 
fornia coast.  She  rolled  and  thrashed,  and  the  brisk 
trades  spattered  spray  over  her  bows,  and  she  certainly 
took  her  own  time  in  moving  along. 

We  all  settled  down  to  endure  the  trip  as  best  we 
could,  but  it  was  a  rather  surly  party.  Forward,  the 
blacks  and  whites  nursed  their  scars  and  their  grudge; 
aft,  Keedy  and  I  scowled  at  each  other  so  much  that 
nobody  could  be  happy  around  where  we  were.  Miss 
Kama  walked  the  deck  alone,  or  read,  or  embroidered  in 
her  state-room;  once  in  a  while  I  got  a  glimpse  of  her 
through  the  door  while  she  was  at  work.  She  continued 
to  sit  beside  me  at  table,  but  she  was  very  cool  and  distant. 
I  don't  know  as  I  tried  to  have  her  anything  else.  I 
would  have  liked  to  lean  over  the  rail  and  talk  with  her, 
though  I  never  presumed  to  speak  to  her  on  deck.  Take 
a  fellow  when  he  is  young,  penned  aboard  a  slow  packet, 
a  pretty  girl  near  him  all  the  time,  and  you  bet  he  cannot 
confine  all  his  thought  to  the  scenery  and  his  job. 

She  truly  was  a  pretty  girl!  I  can  see  her  now  as  she 
strode  to  and  fro  on  the  upper  deck,  her  hands  shoved 
deep  in  the  pockets  of  her  white  sweater,  and  drawing 
it  forward  so  that  it  set  off  her  plumpness.  There  was  a 
sort  of  indescribable  tousle  to  her  hair,  if  I  may  put  it 
that  way.  I  don't  know  what  the  color  was — there's  no 
name  for  those  shades  of  copper  and  brown  and  all  that. 

344 


I  know  I  liked  mighty  well  to  see  the  sun  shine  through 
that  hair. 

I  loafed  below  and  forward  considerably.  I  found  a 
lot  to  interest  me,  particularly  a  job  that  the  Russian 
Finn  was  on  in  his  spare  time.  He  was  making  a  new  tail 
for  his  monkey.  He  explained  to  me  half  tearfully  that 
the  monkey  would  never  be  safe  or  happy  otherwise.  I 
had  pretty  hard  work  to  understand  the  man's  broken 
lingo,  but  I  gathered  that  this  especial  kind  of  monkey 
needed  to  spend  a  portion  of  his  time  hanging  head  down- 
ward from  his  tail  in  order  to  be  well  and  contented. 
Once  or  twice  since  the  tail  had  been  amputated  the 
monkey  had  run  up  the  foremast  or  the  derrick,  and  had 
confidently  tried  to  throw  an  imaginary  tail  over  a  rope, 
and  had  tumbled  to  the  deck,  where  he  had  squatted  and 
moaned  and  examined  the  stump  with  confused  and 
pitiful  attempt  to  understand  the  phenomenon.  I  could 
sympathize  with  the  Finn's  fears  when  he  said  that 
"some  day  he  fall  over  the  board  or  break  him  damn 
neck."  The  cook's  random  blow  had  left  some  inches  of 
the  stump,  and  to  this  with  marline  and  glue  the  Finn 
deftly  fastened  by  an  "end-seizing"  a  wire  covered  with 
furred  skin.  I  wondered  where  he  secured  this  skin.  He 
owned  up  to  me.  He  had  captured  and  killed  one  of  the 
cook's  pet  cats,  and  the  cook  had  never  opened  his  eyes 
wide  enough  to  detect  the  crime,  or  to  behold  where  the 
skin  of  the  defunct  was  performing  vicarious  atonement. 

This  catskin-covered  wire  was  hooked  at  the  end. 
Edison,  I  reckon,  never  watched  the  testing  of  an  inven- 
tion with  greater  raptness  than  the  Finn  displayed  as  the 
monkey,  after  a  thorough  inspection  of  the  new  appendage, 
clambered  aloft  to  where  a  rope  swayed  invitingly.  I 
confess  that  I  shared  in  that  interest.  It  proved  a  sur- 
prising success.  The  monkey  swung  from  the  hook, 
chattered,  and  grinned,  and  came  down  and  sat  for  long 
minutes  scrutinizing  the  thing,  running  busy  little  fingers 
along  the  furred  wire. 

345 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"I  may  need  an  inventor  with  brains  when  I  get  at 
my  job  down  below  here,"  I  told  the  Finn.  "I  will  re- 
member what  you  have  done  to  your  monkey." 

But  when  the  time  did  come,  it  was  the  monkey  instead 
of  the  master  who  served. 

As  day  followed  day,  and  we  finally  raised  the  loom 
of  the  southern  California  mountains  in  the  blue  distance 
on  our  port,  Ingot  Ike  came  out  of  the  lethargy  in  which 
limitless  supplies  of  soft  gingerbread  seemed  to  involve 
him.  He  talked  to  me  with  the  brown  crumbs  sticking 
in  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  and  his  spirits  rose  higher  each 
day.  He  was  like  a  thermometer  which  was  being  brought 
nearer  and  nearer  to  heat.  His  talk  became  more  eager, 
his  demeanor  more  alert,  joy  more  intense. 

"After  all  I've  talked  about  it,  and  told  'em  about  it, 
and  argued,  it's  coming  true  at  last,"  he  kept  repeating 
to  me.  He  had  fastened  himself  to  me  with  especial 
insistence  during  the  voyage.  "You're  the  one  who  is 
going  to  get  it,  who  is  going  off  this  boat  right  down  to 
where  it  is,  where  you  can  lay  your  hands  right  on  it,  sir. 
Won't  it  be  a  grand  feeling  when  you  lay  your  hands  on 
the  first  box?" 

"Yes,"  I  admitted,  "it  will — when  I  lay  my  hands 
on  it." 

I  did  not  say  that  with  any  great  enthusiasm.  If  Ingot 
Ike  had  not  been  so  full  of  gingerbread  and  glee  he  would 
have  seen  that  I  was  pretty  much  down.  That  San 
Francisco  cocktail  had  got  well  worked  out  of  me.  I'd 
had  plenty  of  time  to  think  the  whole  thing  over  during 
that  wallow  down  the  coast.  A  man  could  be  hopeful, 
in  on  shore,  with  Mr.  Keedy  rolling  the  word  "gold"  over 
his  tongue  like  a  luscious  morsel.  I  had  been  hopeful — 
and  desperate.  But  after  days  at  sea  in  that  rickety  old 
tub,  with  her  rotten  equipment,  her  bargain-sale  fittings, 
her  makeshift  crew,  with  her  whole  grouchy,  suspicious, 
and  reckless  atmosphere,  I  decided  that  I  was  a  fool  and 
would  have  been  better  off  if  I  had  gone  out  and  hunted 

346 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

for  a  legitimate  job.  I  had  ahead  of  me  the  fact,  accord- 
ing to  old  Ike,  that  other  good  men  had  tried  and  failed. 
I  had  behind  me  just  then  the  sure  feeling  that  Mr. 
Keedy  proposed  to  do  me  up  as  soon  as  I  made  good, 
provided  I  did  so  by  some  lucky  chance. 

The  last  stage  of  the  voyage  south  was  made  with  old 
Ike  posted  in  the  crow's-nest,  his  beak  thrust  out,  and  his 
mat  of  hair  fluttering  in  the  wind.  He  was  so  excited 
that  he  forgot  to  wallop  gingerbread  between  his  toothless 
jaws. 

Number-two  Jones,  who  wasn't  a  bad  sort,  gave  me 
some  information  about  the  coast  which  was  in  sight  of 
us  since  we  had  crossed  the  mouth  of  the  Gulf  of  Cali- 
fornia. He  had  sailed  those  waters  before.  He  had  a 
somewhat  misty  remembrance  of  where  the  steamer 
Golden  Gate  had  gone  ashore,  but  he  had  never  been 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  spot,  for  the  sand-bars  obliged  craft 
to  keep  well  offshore. 

According  to  his  recollection,  the  wreck  had  occurred 
along  the  Guerrero  coast,  somewhere  between  Orilla  and 
Acapulco.  The  doomed  steamer,  after  she  had  caught 
fire,  was  headed  for  the  harbor  of  Acapulco,  almost  the 
only  haven  on  the  coast,  but  an  outlying  sand-bar  tripped 
her  many  miles  north  of  her  destination  and  she  went  to 
her  grave.  Mr.  Jones  confessed  that  he  did  not  know 
just  where;  he  would  be  obliged  to  hunt  fifty  miles  of 
coast  for  her  if  it  were  up  to  him. 

But  Ingot  Ike  had  the  memory  of  a  monomaniac  on  the 
subject  of  the  Golden  Gate.  He  peered  under  his  palm 
at  the  hazy  sky-line;  he  threw  back  his  head  and  snuffed 
into  the  east  like  a  dog  treeing  game. 

Captain  Holstrom  started  the  lead  going  as  soon  as  Ike 
had  asked  to  have  the  Zizania  hug  the  coast  more  closely. 
He  knew  the  reputation  of  those  hummocks  and  sub- 
marine plateaus  of  sand,  and  the  howl  of  the  leadsman 
rather  astonished  me  when  he  reported,  for  on  the  Atlantic 
coast,  to  which  I  had  been  accustomed,  we  would  be  in 

347 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

deep  water  with  a  coast-line  so  far  away  in  the  hazy  blue 
of  the  east.  At  a  distance  which  I  judged  to  be  at  least 
two  miles  offshore  we  were  getting  a  report  of  only  fifteen 
or  twenty  fathoms. 

At  last  Ike  began  to  swish  his  thin  arm.  "Ye'd  better 
down  killick,  Captain!"  he  screamed  from  the  crow's-nest. 
4 '  We're  laying  off  of  her.  This  is  the  place. ' '  He  scrambled 
down  and  ran  to  the  wheel-house.  "If  you  put  her  in 
closer  than  this  she'll  roll  her  blamed  old  smokestack 
out." 

Captain  Holstrom  accepted  that  advice  promptly, 
though  the  shore-line  was  at  least  a  mile  away. 

He  yelled  shrilly,  and  splash!  went  the  port  anchor. 
When  she  had  swung  wide  he  sent  down  the  starboard 
mud-hook,  and  she  headed  the  rolling  Pacific,  riding 
easily  to  the  heave  of  the  giant  sweepers. 

A  little  thrill  tingled  in  me  as  she  came  to  a  halt.  We 
were  on  the  ground  at  last. 

It  was  now  up  to  me ! 

There  were  plenty  of  other  men  on  that  boat,  but  there 
was  only  one  man  who  could  reach  out  and  put  his  hand 
on  that  treasure,  and  that  was  myself.  The  thought  did 
not  help  to  cheer  my  despondency. 

Captain  Holstrom  was  immediately  busy  with  a  huge 
telescope  which  he  lifted  from  its  rack  and  leveled  across 
the  sill  of  the  wheel-house  window.  Old  Ike  was  excitedly 
counseling  him,  jabbing  a  digit  toward  the  shore. 

"Follow  down  from  that  second  nick  in  that  hossback 
mount'in,"  the  guide  suggested.  "Them  is  my  bearings. 
You  ought  to  see  them  ribs  fairly  plain  against  the  white 
where  that  surf  is  breaking  inshore." 

There  was  silence  after  that  while  the  captain  squinted 
through  the  glass,  twisting  a  section  now  and  then  to 
sharpen  the  focus.  His  daughter  was  in  the  wheel-house 
at  his  side,  her  face  tense.  She  had  never  intimated  to 
me,  of  course,  what  her  ideas  were  in  regard  to  this 
treasure  quest.  She  may  have  held  the  whole  project 

343 


WHERE   YOUl(   TREASURE    IS 

in  the  same  contempt  in  which  she  seemed  to  hold  Keedy, 
its  chief  instigator,  or  old  Ike,  its  prophet.  But  I  stole 
a  look  at  her,  and  decided  that  she  was  interested  now. 

Well,  anything  with  intellect  above  that  of  a  steer 
would  have  had  to  be  interested  at  that  moment. 

We  were  hoping  that  yonder  under  those  rollers  lay 
three  or  four  million  dollars'  worth  of  gold — gold  enough 
to  buy  everything  that  man  or  woman  could  desire. 

Even  the  blockheads  of  the  checker-board  crew,  who 
could  hope  for  no  more  than  their  wages  from  the  quest, 
were  staring  over  the  rail  from  the  main  deck  forward, 
their  mouths  open.  Marcena  Keedy  was  eating  a  cigar 
instead  of  smoking  it. 

"Them  ribs  ought  to  be  there,  Captain,"  insisted  the 
old  man,  wistfully.  "The  rest  has  been  buried,  but  them 
ribs  have  stood  all  the  swash  for  years.  They  ought  to 
be  there." 

There  was  another  long  silence. 

Then  Captain  Holstrom  straightened  up.  "They're 
there!"  said  he.  He  beckoned  to  me.  I  was  at  the  rail. 
"Come  in  here,"  he  directed.  "It's  your  next  peek — 
for  yonder  is  laid  out  your  job." 

I  had  good  eyes  and  I  spotted  the  objects  right  off. 
There  were  three  curved  ribs  of  a  ship  outlined  against 
the  white  of  the  breaking  rollers  beyond.  The  telescope 
gave  the  view  relief  and  perspective,  and  I  saw  that  the 
ribs  were  well  outshore.  Many  yards  of  tossing  water, 
so  I  judged,  were  between  them  and  land. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think?"  he  inquired,  when  I  passed 
the  glass  back. 

"I'll  tell  you  after  I've  been  down,  sir.  A  diver  can't 
afford  to  waste  guesswork  on  the  top  side  of  water." 

The  girl  shook  her  head  when  her  father  offered  her  the 
telescope,  and  Keedy  came  in  and  took  his  look. 

"Away  in  there,  is  it?  Well,  what  are  we  waiting  for 
out  here?" 

Captain  Holstrom  looked  his  partner  up  and  down. 

349 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

This  sudden  exhibition  of  a  lack  of  a  practical  knowledge 
took  his  breath  away  for  a  moment. 

"We're  waiting  out  here  because  we  have  got  to  stay 
here,  Marcena.  This  is  as  far  as  it's  safe  to  go." 

"We  might  as  well  sit  on  the  Cliff  House  piazza,  and 
boss  the  job  as  be  out  here,"  grumbled  the  gambler. 

"I  don't  know  what  sort  of  an  idea  you  had  about 
getting  this  treasure,"  retorted  the  captain.  "But  if  you 
had  paid  attention  to  Ike  when  he  was  telling  about  the 
lay  of  the  land  you  ought  to  have  realized  that  we  wasn't 
going  to  tie  up  to  that  wreck  and  have  Sidney  hook  bags 
of  gold  on  to  a  fish-line  for  you  to  pull  up." 

"I'm  down  here  to  have  a  general  oversight  in  this 
business,"  said  Keedy,  "and  I  propose  to  be  near  enough 
to  the  job  to  oversee  it." 

Captain  Holstrom  looked  a  bit  disgusted.  "We  might 
rig  a  bos'n's  chair  for  you  on  one  of  them  ribs,  and  cut 
a  hole  in  the  water  for  you  to  look  down  through.  But 
see  here,  Marcena,  don't  get  foolish  about  this  thing.  All 
you've  been  thinking  about,  so  I  judge,  is  of  them  boxes 
of  gold,  and  you  haven't  stopped  to  figure  on  the  way  of 
getting  'em.  I  have  figured.  I've  talked  a  lot  with  old 
Ike  when  you  wasn't  listening,  but  was  dreaming  about 
them  ingots.  Now  you  listen  to  me.  Let's  start  in  with- 
out a  row  and  a  general  misunderstanding."  He  began 
to  dot  off  his  points  with  a  stubby  forefinger. 

"We  can't  anchor  the  Zizania  any  nearer.  There  isn't 
holding-ground  on  that  sand,  and  we've  got  to  have 
plenty  of  water  under  this  steamer  in  case  of  a  blow. 
See  those  lighters  forward?  I  bought  'em  after  I  got  a 
general  understanding  of  the  lay  of  the  land  here  from 
Ike" 

"You  bought  a  lot  of  things  without  consulting  me," 
said  Keedy,  showing  his  grouch.  "What  ami  in  this 
thing — a  passenger  or  a  partner?  Seeing  that  my  money 
is  in  it,  I  propose  to  have  my  brains  in,  too." 

The  man  acted  and  talked  in  a  way  to  indicate  that  he 

350 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

was  starting  out  hunting  for  trouble.  It  began  to  look 
to  me  as  if  there  were  worse  shoals  ahead  for  our  partner- 
ship than  the  shoals  of  San  Apusa  Bar.  Mr.  Jones  had 
given  me  that  as  the  name  of  the  place  where  the  wreck 
lay. 

Capt.  Rask  Holstrom  did  not  have  the  steadiest  temper 
in  the  world.  His  eyes  narrowed. 

"Every  man  for  his  own  line,  Keedy.  I'm  not  pre- 
suming to  tell  you  how  to  deal  from  the  box,  nor  how  to 
size  the  buried  card  in  stud  poker.  Nor  I  don't  need 
any  advice  from  you  when  it  comes  to  handling  a  job  of 
work  in  tidewater.  I've  waited  till  I  got  here  to  tell  you 
my  plans.  When  I  can  talk  and  you  can  see  the  layout 
at  the  same  time,  I'll  not  be  wasting  so  much  breath; 
even  those  faro-game  brains  of  yours  can  take  in  what 
I'm  getting  at.  Now,  hold  right  on!  This  is  going  to  be 
a  square  deal,  and  you  can  sit  close  to  the  jack-pot. 
Those  four  lighters  are  going  overboard,  and  we'll  moor 
them  in  a  chain  between  here  and  the  shore.  We  can 
splice  the  cables  so  as  to  allow  a  hundred  fathoms  between 
each  one.  That  will  make  each  lighter  a  sort  of  a  bridle 
anchor  for  the  others,  and  we  ought  to  get  the  inshore 
lighter  mighty  nigh  the  wreck.  You  can  stay  on  that 
lighter  and  have  your  meals  brought  if  you  hanker  to." 

He  snapped  out  that  last  remark  while  he  was  backing 
down  the  ladder  from  the  bridge  to  the  main  deck.  The 
sneer  that  went  with  it  did  not  improve  the  state  of 
Keedy's  feelings. 

"I'll  show  this  aggregation  whether  I  can  boss  a  job 
or  not,"  he  growled. 

I  decided  right  then  that  if  Keedy  tried  to  boss  me  from 
that  inshore  lighter  the  partnership  of  Holstrom,  Keedy  & 
Sidney  would  get  a  fracture  in  the  second  joint  much  wider 
than  the  one  which  was  already  widening  there.  I  looked 
after  him  when  he  strolled  away,  and  I  reckon  if  he  had 
turned  around  and  given  me  one  of  those  nasty  looks  of 
his  just  then  I  would  have  run  after  him  and  hoisted  him 

3Si 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

a  good  one  under  the  coat-tail — gladly  taking  the  conse- 
quences. I  had  never  hated  Anson  C.  Doughty  any 
worse.  Keedy  had  grafted  himself  on  to  the  project  with 
stolen  money — and  now  he  was  insulting  the  rest  of  us 
by  placing  us  in  the  rogue  class  with  himself  and  in  need 
of  watching. 

I  suppose  I  looked  very  blue  and  ugly  and  disgusted 
as  I  stood  there  at  the  rail,  scowling  first  at  Keedy  and 
then  at  the  streaming  white  of  the  surf  which  played 
beyond  the  ribs  of  the  wreck. 

The  girl  spoke  to  me.  She  leaned  from  the  window 
of  the  wheel-house,  and  there  was  a  note  in  her  voice  I  had 
never  heard  before.  All  her  brusqueness  was  gone.  She 
was  sort  of  confidential  and  wistful. 

"You  don't  think  much  of  this  scheme,  do  you,  Mr. 
Sidney?" 

I  was  in  the  mood  to  agree  with  her.  "There  must  be 
an  almighty  good  reason  why  those  other  fellows  did  not 
recover  the  treasure,  Miss  Holstrom,  providing  old  Ike 
is  right  in  what  he  says  and  that  they  didn't  get  it.  I 
can  tell  better  after  I  have  been  down." 

"I  have  never  seen  a  diver  at  work.  It  is  very  dan- 
gerous, isn't  it?" 

"That  depends  on  the  job.  I  have  been  as  deep  as  one 
hundred  and  seventy  feet,  Miss  Holstrom,  and  I  felt 
perfectly  safe,  though  the  pressure  made  my  nose  bleed. 
Another  time  I  was  down  in  only  four  fathoms  in  the  wash 
of  a  lee  shore,  and  they  couldn't  keep  my  lines  and  my  air- 
hose  clear,  and  they  pulled  me  up  near  dead.  That's  a 
lee  shore  yonder,  and  I'm  afraid  I'm  going  to  find  some 
very  good  reasons  why  the  other  divers  didn't  succeed. 
Sometimes  I  am  tempted  to  believe  that  they  did  get  the 
gold  and  that  old  Ike's  talk  is  simply  a  dream." 

"I  think  the  whole  affair  is  a  nightmare — I  mean  this 
trip,"  she  declared.  "I  don't  believe  the  good  Lord  is 
going  to  allow  a  man  like  Marcena  Keedy  to  succeed  in 
any  decent  enterprise." 

352 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  rubbed  my  ear  and  looked  at  her  for  a. few  minutes. 
I  had  been  turning  over  a  thought  about  this  expedition 
in  my  mind  for  some  days.  I  did  not  know  whether  to 
say  anything  to  her  about  it  or  not.  It  would  be  giving 
Captain  Holstrom  a  pretty  hard  dig.  But  I  blurted  it,  for 
she  knew  I  had  something  on  my  mind  and  bluntly  de- 
manded to  know  what  I  was  thinking  about. 

"Perhaps  this  is  the  kind  of  a  scheme  where  the  devil 
will  help  his  own,  Miss  Holstrom — and  therefore  Keedy 
belongs  in  the  thick  of  it  as  chief  manager.  He'll  win  on 
that  basis.  I  don't  know  much  about  admiralty  law  or 
maritime  justice.  But  it  may  be  that  this  treasure  has 
not  been  officially  abandoned.  Perhaps  taking  it  is  steal- 
ing it.  I  know  that  the  Zizania  got  away  from  port  with 
papers  as  a  trawl  fisher.  I  know  I  have  no  business  talking 
like  this  about  your  father's  affair.  But  if  it's  to  be  real 
stealing,  perhaps  we'll  succeed  with  Keedy  in  the  game," 
I  said — and  it  was  a  pretty  clumsy  joke.  It  fell  flat. 

"I  hope  my  father  will  wake  up,"  she  said,  curtly, 
looking  down  on  him  where  he  was  giving  off  orders  about 
clearing  the  big  derrick.  "Sometimes  I  almost  believe 
in  evil  spirits  and  in  control  of  a  man's  mind  by  another 
man — in  a  wicked  way,  I  mean.  But  I  thank  God  there's 
one  of  the  Holstrom  family  who  can't  be  hypnotized  by 
Marcena  Keedy.  That  is  why  I  have  come  on  this 
voyage — my  father  needs  a  guardian." 

She  came  down  the  steps  from  the  wheel-house,  and 
went  into  her  state-room.  I  walked  aft,  for  the  Zizania 
had  swung  with  the  surges,  and  was  tailing  toward  shore, 
and  I  wanted  to  look  at  the  place  where  my  work  had  been 
cut  out  for  me. 

Keedy  met  me  amidship.  He  came  out  from  behind  a 
lashed  life-boat,  and  it  struck  me  at  once  that  he  had  been 
in  ambush,  spying  on  me.  That  was  before  he  had  opened 
his  mouth.  He  did  not  leave  me  in  any  doubt  when  he 
began  to  talk. 

"Let's  get  to  an  understanding  about  Miss  Holstrom, 

353 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

Sidney,"  he  rasped,  leveling  his  finger  at  me.  "You  let 
her  alone.  No  more  buzzing  her  behind  my  back  or  her 
father's." 

"Keedy,  you  have  started  running  after  trouble  to-day. 
In  my  case,  you'll  catch  up  with  it  mighty  soon." 

"Then  let's  make  believe  I  have  caught  up.  I'm  going 
to  marry  that  young  lady.  And  no  cheap  Yankee  masher 
is  going  to  stand  around  and  make  sheep's  eyes  at  her. 
That's  business  and  you  keep  your  hands  down.  You 
slap  me  again,  Sidney,  and  I'll  drop  you  in  your  tracks — 
even  if  the  gold  stays  there  till  we  can  get  another  diver." 
He  had  his  hand  on  his  hip,  and  his  eyes  were  fairly  green. 

I  started  to  tell  him  what  I  thought  of  him  and  his 
chances  with  that  girl,  proposing  to  throw  in  a  few  re- 
marks about  what  I  should  do  if  I  wanted  to.  But  I 
shut  my  mouth  suddenly.  I  had  no  right  to  stand  out 
there  and  insult  a  girl  by  quarreling  about  her  with  a 
fellow  of  that  stripe. 

Vastly  different  were  the  circumstances  and  the  rela- 
tions of  the  persons  concerned — but  I  felt  the  same  rank- 
ling of  resentment  which  hurt  my  pride  and  my  feelings 
when  Jeff  Dawlin  growled  his  warning  in  my  ear.  I  hated 
to  leave  any  false  impressions  with  Keedy.  I  did  not 
propose  to  have  him  think  I  envied  him  anything  he 
possessed  or  thought  he  possessed.  Pride  and  the  spirit 
of  brag — that  was  it — prompted  my  answer. 

"Look  here,"  I  shot  out  at  him,  "I  have  a  girl  East 
who  is  worth  more  than  all  the  gold  you  expect  to  find  in 
that  wreck  over  there.  What  do  you  think  I'm  out  in 
this  God-forsaken  country  for?  What  do  you  think  I'm 
gambling  along  with  you  for?  It's  so  I  can  grab  off  enough 
money  to  make  a  showing  when  I  carry  it  back  home  and 
pour  it  into  her  lap!  Don't  you  worry,  Keedy.  I  don't 
want  any  of  your  girls.  There's  one  who  is  waiting  for 
me  back  East!"  How  a  man  will  lie  when  he  gets  to  talk- 
ing about  girls!  I  snapped  my  fingers  under  Keedy 's 
nose  and  walked  on  aft.  I  felt  considerably  relieved 

354 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

because  I  figured  I  had  taken  some  of  the  conceit  out  of 
him.  I  had  a  lot  taken  out  of  myself  when  I  returned. 

Miss  Kama  Holstrom  met  me.  She  gave  me  one  of 
those  up-and-down  glances  which  seem  to  sting  like  the 
flick  of  a  long  lash. 

"I  have  no  objection  to  your  discussing  your  love 
affairs  with  Mr.  Keedy,  my  dear  sir — though  I  question 
your  good  taste.  But  I  must  ask  you  not  to  discuss  me 
with  him." 

"  I  assure  you  I  did  not !" 

"I  stepped  into  my  state-room  only  to  get  my  cap.  I 
was  walking  on  the  other  side  of  the  life-boat  when  you 
were  talking." 

"But  I—" 

"I'm  sure  you  understand  my  request,  sir."  She 
walked  on. 

A  fine  partnership — that  of  Holstrom,  Keedy,  and 
Sidney,  treasure-seekers!  And  there  was  a  silent  partner 
whose  silence  just  then,  along  with  her  disgust,  sent  a 
crimson  flame  into  my  cheeks. 


RIGHT  away  I  found  that  Captain  Holstrom  knew 
how  to  "team"  a  crew.  He  started  that  checker- 
board outfit  of  his  to  humping  in  good  earnest  after  he 
and  I  had  planned  out  the  details  of  setting  the  stage 
for  the  work  ahead  of  us. 

We  needed  to  reach  as  long  an  arm  as  possible  toward 
the  wreck. 

Inside  of  four  days  after  we  planted  our  mud-hooks 
on  San  Apusa  Bar,  we  had  our  string  of  lighters  in  place. 

First  we  anchored  them  and  then  we  linked  them  with 
one  another  by  cables  because  the  sandy  bottom  inshore 
from  the  steamer  afforded  poor  holding-ground  for  the 
anchors.  Having  a  number  of  lighters  hitched  together 
in  this  manner,  the  chain  made  a  sort  of  spring  cable  for 
the  lighter  nearest  the  wreck  where  the  scuffling  surges 
were  piling  high  over  the  shoals.  The  scow  nearest  the 
shore  thrashed  about  in  rather  lively  style,  but  I  figured 
that  I  could  do  my  work  from  it  in  pretty  fair  fashion. 
At  any  rate,  by  our  system  of  cables,  we  planted  the 
lighter  less  than  three  hundred  feet  from  the  upstand- 
ing ribs  of  the  Golden  Gate.  It  was  about  the  best  we 
could  do,  considering  our  limited  equipment. 

On  the  fifth  day  all  was  ready  for  me  to  go  down  for 
the  first  time. 

Of  course  I  had  been  allowed  to  pick  my  own  helpers, 
and  I  had  been  giving  them  lessons  for  some  time.  I 
chose  Mate  Number-two  Jones  to  tend  hose  and  lines, 
and  Chief-Engineer  Shank  was  to  manage  the  air-pump. 

356 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  had  found  them  to  be  steady  and  reliable  men.  I  owned 
a  Heinke  diving-dress  which  had  cost  me  six  hundred 
dollars,  and  with  the  right  men  "up-stairs"  I  was  not 
worrying  about  my  ability  to  get  down  and  stay  down — 
even  if  I  had  been  off  my  job  for  a  while.  As  to  what  I 
would  be  able  to  accomplish  when  I  got  down  on  ocean's 
floor  I  was  not  quite  so  sure. 

While  I  had  been  waiting  for  the  lighters  to  be  moored 
I  had  pumped  Ingot  Ike  daily. 

He  did  seem  to  know  what  he  was  talking  about — 
and  I  had  to  admit  that.  The  matter  of  the  treasure  of 
the  Golden  Gate  had  crowded  everything  else  out  of  his 
mind,  and  left  his  memory  mighty  clear.  He  drew  a  plan 
of  her  with  a  stubby  pencil,  and  went  into  minute  details 
of  description.  He  said  the  ribs  which  showed  were 
forward  of  the  room  where  the  treasure  had  been  stored. 
The  fire  had  been  aft  and  amidship,  and  when  she  had 
struck  the  sand  she  had  buried  her  nose,  and  these  ribs 
were  planted  so  solidly  that  the  surf  had  not  been  able 
to  beat  them  down.  As  a  quartermaster  who  had  known 
his  ship,  he  was  able  to  tell  me  how  many  paces  aft  from 
the  standing  ribs  should  be  the  spot  where  the  treasure  lay. 

They  made  ready  the  best  life-boat  on  the  Zizania  for 
me  and  my  equipment,  a  big  yawl  with  sponsons.  Cap- 
tain Holstrom  did  not  propose  to  take  any  chances  with 
that  outfit  during  the  ferrying  process.  He  went  as 
coxswain,  and  I  was  not  surprised,  of  course,  to  see  Keedy 
scramble  in  even  before  I  had  lowered  my  diving-dress 
over  the  side.  What  did  surprise  me  was  to  have  Miss 
Kama  show  up  as  a  passenger.  When  she  stepped  past 
me  and  went  down  the  ladder  my  eyes  bugged  out.  I 
thought  'twas  somebody  I  had  never  seen  before.  She 
wore  knickerbockers,  and  was  gaitered  to  the  knees,  and 
she  went  into  the  life-boat  as  nimbly  as  a  midshipman, 
asking  a  hand  from  no  one.  I  could  have  cracked  Keedy 
across  the  face  with  a  relish  for  the  way  he  rolled  his  eyes 
at  her. 

357 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

She  showed  the  good  sense  of  an  out-of-door  girl  who 
understood  a  thing  or  two  when  she  picked  that  costume. 
Embarking  and  disembarking  with  that  surf  running 
under  a  keel  was  no  job  for  a  girl  in  skirts. 

When  we  came  up  beside  the  in-lying  lighter  we  were 
climbing  white-flaked  hills  of  water  and  coasting  dizzily 
into  green  valleys.  Those  waves  of  the  old  Pacific  which 
had  marched  across  seas  from  the  lee  of  the  Society 
Islands  were  certainly  making  a  great  how-de-do  in 
halting  on  those  sand-bars  of  the  Mexican  coast;  and 
inshore  there  in  the  shallows  the  surf  had  a  nastier  fling 
to  it  than  off  where  we  had  found  holding-ground  for  the 
old  Zizania.  It  was  a  case  of  every  one  for  himself  in 
making  the  transfer  from  the  life-boat  to  the  lighter.  I 
was  ready  to  assist  the  girl,  but  she  set  foot  on  the  gun- 
wale, sprang  with  the  heave  of  the  boat,  and  landed 
on  deck  as  lightly  as  a  bird ;  she  could  not  have  done  the 
trick  more  neatly  if  she  had  worn  wings  on  the  shoulders 
of  that  close-fitting  sweater. 

There  was  one  cheerful  moment  for  me  on  that  day  of 
anxiety;  Keedy  was  the  last  passenger  out  of  the  life- 
boat, and  he  teetered  and  made  motions  to  jump,  and 
flinched  and  squirmed  and  backed  water  like  a  swimmer 
afraid  to  plunge  in.  When  he  did  jump  at  last  he  stubbed 
his  toe  on  the  deck  of  the  lighter,  and  raked  that  hooked 
beak  of  his  across  the  planks.  I  grinned  at  him  when  he 
staggered  up,  holding  to  his  bleeding  nose,  and  I  we  to 
overhauling  my  diving-dress,  whistling  a  tune. 

I  found  Number-two  Jones  and  round  little  Romeo 
Shank  to  be  helpful  handy-Andys  after  the  instructions 
I  had  given  them.  The  girl  never  missed  a  motion  they 
made  in  getting  me  ready.  I  felt  a  warm  ringer  trying  to 
worm  its  way  under  my  rubber  wristbands,  and  I  turned 
to  find  her  looking  at  me  with  a  great  deal  of  concern. 
She  explained  that  she  wanted  to  be  sure  that  no  water 
could  leak  in,  and  then  she  seemed  to  think  that  she  had 
been  just  a  bit  forward,  and  she  blushed. 

358 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

The  next  thing  I  knew  she  was  sturdily  fetching  one  of 
my  twenty-pound  shoes,  and  stood  there  holding  it  ready 
for  my  helpers.  I  had  gone  down  a  good  many  times  in 
my  life,  but  I  went  that  day  with  the  happy  consciousness 
of  helpful  interest  in  my  poor  self. 

Then  they  set  the  helmet  on  to  the  breastplate  and 
gave  it  its  one-eighth  turn  into  the  screw  bayonet  joint, 
and  set  the  thumb-screws.  My  front  eyepiece  was 
hinged  like  the  window  of  a  ship's  port-hole,  and  this  was 
open.  The  girl  bent  down  and  peered  at  my  face. 

"  It  seems  a  terrible  thing  for  you  to  be  closed  in  there — 
for  you  to  go  down  into  that  raging  water,"  she  said,  her 
face  close  to  mine. 

"Wish  me  good  luck,  and  I'll  go  humming  a  tune," 
said  I,  smiling  at  her. 

"With  all  my  heart  I  do,"  she  answered,  a  catch  in  her 
voice. 

I  shut  the  frame,  and  Mr.  Shank  set  the  turn-screw. 
With  a  man  on  each  side  of  me,  I  scuffed  my  way  to  the 
ladder,  and  went  over  the  rail  of  the  lighter.  I  waited  at 
the  foot  of  the  ladder — about  ten  feet  under — until  I  felt 
that  little  pop  in  my  ears  which  signals  to  the  diver  that 
his  Eustachian  tube  is  open,  and  that  the  pressure  is 
equalized.  Then  I  yanked  the  rope  to  ask  for  a  taut  life- 
line, and  let  go  my  hold. 

The  sun  was  bright  and  the  bed  of  the  sea  was  of  sand, 
and  I  found  good  light  below.  There  was  a  heavy  sway 
to  the  water  even  on  bottom,  but  I  was  strong,  and  knew 
how  to  handle  myself.  I  found  my  footing,  and  started 
along. 

My  only  tool  that  day  was  a  peaked-nose  shovel.  I 
crawled  along,  using  it  for  a  push-pole. 

I  found  the  bottom  to  be  a  succession  of  bars,  which 
were  parallel  with  the  shore — waves  of  sand,  so  to  speak, 
ranging  from  six  to  ten  feet  in  height.  It  was  a  slow  job 
working  one's  way  across  them.  However,  they  assisted 
me — there  was  no  danger  of  getting  off  one's  course.  I 

24  359 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

needed  only  to  proceed  at  right  angles  to  the  bars.  Through 
my  bull's-eye  in  that  dim  green  light  I  could  see  ahead 
for  some  distance.  So  at  last  I  came  to  the  timbers  of  the 
wreck.  There  was  a  long  tangle  of  these,  a  great  mass  of 
wreckage  hidden  by  the  sea  and  protruding  but  a  little 
way  above  the  sand  which  the  eternal  surf  had  packed 
down.  I  kept  along  toward  shore  until  I  came  to  the 
timbers  which,  so  my  eyes  told  me,  must  be  the  ones  that 
marked  the  location  of  the  wreck.  They  went  looming 
up  through  the  water.  I  clung  to  one  of  them  and  rested. 
I  was  having  no  trouble  with  my  air,  and  now  that  I  had 
reached  the  scene  of  the  work  that  fact  comforted  me. 
The  movement  of  the  sea  in  that  shallower  water  was 
considerable,  and  now  and  then  a  heavier  roller  jostled 
me  about.  But  I  began  to  plan  out  a  system  of  lashings 
that  would  anchor  me. 

Then  I  got  down  on  my  belly,  and  started  to  measure 
paces  along  the  edge  of  the  timbers,  following  Ike's  in- 
structions as  to  distance.  There  was  mighty  little  that 
was  encouraging  about  the  spot  which  I  finally  located  as 
the  probable  site  of  the  treasure-chamber.  Sand  was 
billowed  and  packed  there,  and  the  place  was  quite  free 
from  wreckage.  It  occurred  to  me  that  the  other  divers 
had  dug  the  timbers  away  at  this  point.  As  I  was  feeling 
fairly  fresh,  I  decided  to  use  my  shovel  a  bit. 

After  five  minutes'  toil  at  that  sand  I  began  to  perceive 
why  the  others  had  failed,  providing  Ingot  Ike  was 
correct  and  they  had  failed.  In  the  first  place,  there  was 
not  the  footing  on  that  bottom  that  a  submarine  diver 
needs.  I  skated  about  almost  helplessly  when  the  heaving 
sea  clutched  at  me.  When  I  tried  to  drive  the  shovel  into 
the  sand  I  was  pushed  back,  and  the  tool  made  only 
scratches  on  the  bottom.  Without  a  prop  or  a  brace,  a 
diver  cannot  pull  or  push  horizontally  with  much  force 
even  under  the  best  conditions,  and  when  I  did  succeed 
in  getting  the  shovel  into  the  sand  and  scooped  a  hole, 
the  particles  began  to  settle  back,  driven  by  the  swaying 

360 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

seas.    The  giant  Pacific  was  jealous  of  the  treasure  it  had 
engulfed. 

There  was  nothing  more  for  me  to  do  down  there  that 
day.  I  began  to  feel  that  pain  above  the  eyes  which 
warns  the  diver.  I  gave  the  signal  for  return,  and  went 
back  at  a  lively  pace,  for  the  taut  line  helped. 

I  saw  none  of  them  on  the  lighter  until  my  helmet  had 
been  removed,  for  when  a  diver  ascends  to  the  air  his 
bull's-eye  becomes  covered  with  mist  in  spite  of  the  wash 
of  vinegar  which  has  kept  the  glass  clear  below.  Marcena 
Keedy  was  in  front  of  me,  looking  at  my  hands,  and 
acting  as  though  he  were  wondering  where  I  had  stowed 
the  find  I  had  made  below. 

"Well,  it's  there,  isn't  it?"  he  demanded. 

"  From  what  little  I  have  been  able  to  find  out,  I  reckon 
it  is  there,"  I  told  him ;  "  and  it  wouldn't  surprise  me  much 
if  it  stayed  there  for  some  time."  I  was  in  no  mood  to 
encourage  that  polecat,  who  was  plainly  thinking  more 
about  that  treasure  than  he  was  about  any  dangers  I 
might  have  been  through.  He  drew  that  streak-o'-paint 
mustache  up  against  his  nose  and  looked  like  a  dog 
about  to  snap.  I  turned  away  from  him  so  as  to  have 
something  better  to  look  at.  There  was  the  girl  beside 
me.  She  sure  was  an  antidote  for  the  poison  of  Marcena 
Keedy's  evil  eye.  Her  red  lips  were  apart,  and  her  little 
bands  were  clasped,  finger  interlaced  with  finger. 

"Thank  God  you  are  back  safe,  Mr.  Sidney!" 

She  wasn't  looking  at  me  as  though  she  were  wondering 
in  which  pocket  I  had  hidden  an  ingot  of  gold. 

"It  was  not  dangerous,"  I  told  her.  "It  was  disap- 
pointing, that's  all." 

I  ignored  Keedy.  I  looked  past  him  to  Captain  Hol- 
strom,  and  related  what  had  happened  below.  It  was  a 
mighty  interested  crowd  that  stood  around  me  and 
listened. 

"The  idea  is,"  I  wound  up,  "this  is  no  'reach-down- 
and-pick-it-up '  proposition." 

361 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

."  That's  what  I  call  doing  damn  little  in  an  hour's  work," 
growled  Keedy.  "You  ain't  down  here  to  tell  us  how  hard 
that  job  is.  We  have  heard  all  about  that  from  the  other 
divers.  You  are  down  here  to  get  that  gold.  You  bragged 
around  what  a  devil  of  a  diver  you  have  been,  and  now 
when  we  have  to  depend  on  you,  all  we  get  is  some  more 
conversation.  Have  you  got  us  away  down  here  and  let 
us  in  on  a  dead  one?" 

"If  that  money  was  in  a  faro-bank  instead  of  a  sand- 
bank," I  told  him,  "you  would  be  just  the  man  to  get  it 
out — you  have  had  plenty  of  practice  in  that  line.  But 
this  happens  to  be  an  honest  job,  and  it  needs  something 
besides  false  cards." 

Then  I  kept  on  talking  to  the  captain: 

"After  giving  the  thing  a  good  looking-over  I  have 
begun  to  figure  on  a  few  plans.  I'll  paw  over  and  size 
up  the  stuff  on  the  Zizania  this  afternoon  and  see  what 
there  is  in  stock  to  help  me."  I  told  Mr.  Jones  to  un- 
strap my  shoes. 

When  Keedy  saw  them  peeling  off  my  dress  he  had  a 
few  more  remarks  to  offer  about  the  kind  of  a  "  hot  diver ' ' 
a  man  was  who  called  an  hour  a  day's  work.  If  I  had 
brought  up  an  ingot  in  each  hand  from  that  first  trip 
he  wouldn't  have  been  grateful;  he  would  have  wanted 
to  know  why  I  did  not  bring  up  the  whole  box. 

I  had  a  dirty  job  of  it  that  afternoon  pawing  over  the 
old  junk  on  board  that  steamer,  but  I  managed  to  sort  out 
some  material  that  fitted  into  my  scheme,  and  it  was 
ferried  to  the  lighter. 

I  went  down  again  the  next  morning  at  sunrise,  for  the 
southwest  trade-wind  had  quieted  during  the  night,  and 
the  swell  wasn't  quite  as  energetic  as  it  had  been  under 
the  push  of  the  breeze  the  previous  day. 

I  had  the  same  spectators.  Miss  Kama,  looking  like  a 
pretty  boy  in  her  knickerbockers,  had  plainly  determined 
to  keep  in  the  front  row,  and  I'll  own  up  that  her  presence 
put  ginger  into  my  efforts.  I  reckoned  I'd  show  her  the 

362 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

difference  between  a  man  who  could  do  and  dare  and  a 
sneering  loafer  of  the  caliber  of  Keedy.  A  handsome  girl 
usually  has  an  effect  of  that  sort  on  a  young  man. 

When  I  reached  bottom  under  the  lighter  they  lowered 
an  old  mushroom  anchor  to  me.  I  unhooked  it,  and 
started  to  roll  it  along  the  "windrows"  of  sand  toward  the 
wreck.  It  took  every  ounce  of  strength  in  me  to  boost  it 
up  those  slopes.  I  had  lashed  a  crowbar  to  the  anchor 
stock,  and  when  I  finally  got  the  thing  to  the  wreck  and 
had  rested  I  stuck  to  the  job,  though  I  had  really  done  as 
much  as  was  advisable  at  one  descent. 

I  loosened  up  a  sizable  patch  of  sand  with  the  crowbar, 
and  settled  the  anchor  in  the  hole,  stock  upright.  There 
was  no  need  for  me  to  pack  the  sand  back;  the  Pacific 
Ocean  would  attend  to  that  part  of  the  job.  The  Pacific 
was  altogether  too  busy  in  packing  sand,  though.  It  did 
not  discriminate  between  an  anchor  which  I  wanted  made 
solid  and  treasure  which  I  wanted  set  free. 

I  went  down  a  second  time  that  day.  I  carried  small 
chains  and  a  broad  shovel.  I  lashed  myself  to  the 
anchor's  stock,  and  with  that  support  as  a  fulcrum  for 
my  body  I  dug  into  the  sand  with  the  crowbar,  and 
fanned  out  the  loose  particles  with  the  broad  shovel. 

But  it  was  like  the  reverse  of  the  story  of  the  man  who 
set  out  to  carry  water  in  a  sieve.  The  sand  kept  running 
in.  If  I  had  been  able  to  stay  down  there  night  and  day, 
and  have  my  meals  brought  to  me,  and  could  have 
worked  without  rest  or  sleep,  I  might  have  been  able  to 
dig  a  hole  in  that  sand  and  to  keep  it  dug  out  until  I  had 
come  to  that  treasure.  As  it  was,  I  toiled  until  my  head 
seemed  splitting,  until  blood  ran  from  my  nose,  and  I  felt 
the  first  weakness  of  that  peculiar  paralysis  of  the  limbs 
which  divers  experience  when  they  pass  the  limit  set  for 
endurance  under  water.  I  lashed  my  tools  to  the  anchor, 
and  was  pulled  back  to  the  lighter. 

Human  arms  had  given  up — human  strength  and  grit 
had  failed.  But  I  knew  that  through  the  hours  of  that 

363 


WHERE    YOUR    TREASURE    IS 

afternoon,  through  the  watches  of  the  night,  that  old, 
miserly  ocean  would  keep  toiling  on,  rolling  sand  back 
into  that  hole,  patting  it  down  with  unseen  fingers,  locking 
a  door  over  the  treasure  that  would  serve  the  purpose 
better  than  doors  of  steel  or  bars  of  bronze.  I  should  find 
all  my  labor  undone  when  I  came  back  to  that  anchor. 

Therefore  I  did  not  lark  and  play  when  I  was  dragged 
over  the  rail  of  the  old  lighter.  I  stumbled  to  my  seat, 
and  sat  and  wiped  blood  from  my  face  when  the  helmet 
had  been  twisted  off  the  breastplate. 

"Four  hours  since  you  went  down — you're  sure  a 
wonder!"  muttered  Shank,  patting  my  dripping  shoulder. 

I  was  embarrassed — a  bit  shocked — when  the  girl  hur- 
ried to  me  and  began  to  wipe  away  the  blood  with  her 
little  handkerchief.  I  tried  to  push  away  her  hands.  It 
didn't  seem  right  to  have  her  do  such  a  task.  But  she 
resisted  me.  She  kept  on. 

"You  poor  boy!"  she  said — or  I  thought  she  said  it; 
I  was  not  sure.  There  was  pity  in  her  tones — a  caressing 
kind  of  pity,  such  as  comes  right  from  a  woman's  heart. 
I  was  astonished.  She  had  been  stiff  and  curt  toward  me — 
and  was  rather  short  with  every  one  else,  for  that  matter. 
She  had  never  seemed  tender  even  toward  her  own  father. 

But  she  murmured  again  in  my  ear,  leaning  close  to  me, 
' '  You  poor  boy !' ' 

I'll  admit  I  was  glad  to  hear  her  say  it — I  needed  sym- 
pathy; but  because  I  mention  the  girl  and  her  little  ways 
please  do  not  jump  at  the  conclusion  that  I  was  falling 
in  love.  She  had  overheard  a  declaration  which  estab- 
lished my  standing  with  her  and,  I  suppose,  made  her  feel 
freer  in  my  company.  Oh  no !  I  was  not  falling  in  love ! 

Sitting  there  as  I  did  with  forty  pounds  of  lead  on  my 
feet  and  eighty  pounds  of  it  across  my  shoulders,  with 
air  in  my  dress  puffing  me  out  like  a  giant  frog,  dripping 
with  brine,  and  hideous  with  blood-smeared  face,  I  wasn't 
much  to  look  at  in  the  way  of  a  lover.  And  outside  of  the 
pity  she  had  never  by  flicker  of  eyelid,  or  tone  of  voice, 

364 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

or  touch  of  hand  intimated  that  she  was  interested  in  me 
except  as  a  young  man  who  was  tugging  at  a  hard  job  and 
deserved  a  little  encouragement. 

"It's  all  —  all  useless  —  down  there  —  isn't  it?"  she 
asked. 

"No;  it's  a  glorious  job,  and  I've  just  begun  on  it." 

"But  it's  wicked  for  you  to  suffer  like  this." 

"I  was  never  so  comfortable  and  happy  in  all  my  life — 
never  so  full  of  courage." 

Keedy  was  listening  and  I  felt  like  tormenting  him. 
He  stuck  his  face  down  to  mine.  It  was  not  a  pretty  face. 
His  nose  was  swathed  in  absorbent  cotton,  which  was 
held  on  with  straps  of  court-plaster. 

"Well,  let  me  in  on  why  you're  so  happy,"  he 
snapped. 

"It  doesn't  happen  to  be  any  of  your  business,"  I 
informed  him. 

"Ain't  I  a  partner  in  this  thing  with  you?" 

"When  I  get  ready  to  tell  you  anything  about  my 
work,  I'll  see  that  you  are  informed.  Or,  if  you  want  to 
make  the  trip,  I'll  tuck  you  under  my  arm  and  take  you 
down  to-morrow.  I'd  be  delighted  to  do  so."  He  looked 
at  me  a  little  while  and  his  eyes  narrowed. 

That  evening  I  had  a  talk  with  Capt.  Rask  Hol- 
strom.  Marcena  Keedy  was  not  in  that  conference.  I 
walked  the  upper  deck  until  Keedy  had  gone,  grunting 
and  growling,  off  into  his  state-room.  Then  I  hunted  up 
the  captain  where  he  was  lying  on  the  transom  in  the 
wheel-house,  puffing  at  his  pipe  and  looking  rather  sullen. 
I  knew  what  was  ailing  him.  I  had  refused  earlier  in  the 
evening  to  come  into  the  wheel-house  while  Keedy  was 
there. 

"Being  a  plain  and  blunt  man,  I  may  as  well  say  what's 
on  my  mind,"  stated  Captain  Holstrom,  sourly.  He  did 
»ot  arise.  He  squinted  at  me  from  under  the  vizor  of  his 
cap,  which  was  pulled  low  over  his  eyes.  "You  ain't 
dealing  with  me  and  Keedy  open  and  frank  as  your 

365 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

partners.  You  ain't  giving  us  full  particulars.  You  was 
down  four  hours  to-day,  and  came  up  looking  blue  and 
scared,  and  then  just  talked  flush-dush  with  my  girl. 
We  ain't  down  here  for  anything  except  straight  business 
and  results.  Your  two  eyes  are  the  eyes  for  all  three  of 
us.  When  you  have  used  'em  down  below  there  we're 
entitled  to  have  full  report.  Me  and  Keedy  ain't  at  all 
satisfied  with  the  way  this  thing  is  running  on." 

I  sat  and  looked  at  him,  and  waited  to  hear  whether 
he  had  any  more  to  say. 

"No,  sir,  we  ain't  satisfied,"  he  repeated. 

"I'm  glad  Mr.  Keedy  isn't  satisfied,"  I  told  him.  "I 
wish  he  would  get  so  dissatisfied  that  he  would  quit  this 
expedition.  And  I  don't  intend  to  kowtow  to  him  and 
make  him  satisfied." 

"Well,  I'll  be  damnationed!"  exploded  the  captain, 
pushing  back  his  cap. 

"You  needn't  be,  Captain  Holstrom.  What  I  say 
doesn't  have  any  reference  to  you  at  all.  I  hope  my 
relations  and  yours  will  stay  as  they  are — no,  I  hope  they 
will  improve  as  you  know  me  better.  But  that  gambler 
has  grafted  himself  on  to  this  scheme.  He  isn't  a  practical 
man,  as  you  are.  He  sneers  at  me  and  my  work — and 
God  knows  it's  hard  and  dangerous  work.  He  expects 
impossible  things,  and  it  doesn't  do  any  good  to  come  up 
out  of  that  hell  of  water  and  explain  to  him.  Every  time 
he  opens  his  mouth  I  feel  like  jumping  down  his  throat 
and  galloping  his  gizzard  out  of  him.  There!  That's 
rough  talk,  but  I  mean  it.  If  Marcena  Keedy  doesn't 
handle  himself  different  where  I'm  concerned  there's 
going  to  be  serious  trouble  aboard  here.  Hold  on  a 
moment!  Hear  me  through.  I  respect  your  good  judg- 
ment and  I  know  you  are  willing  to  work  hard.  I'm 
ready  to  talk  to  you  at  any  time  when  that  sneak  isn't 
around.  What  you  say  to  him  after  that  about  plans  and 
expectations  I  don't  care — that's  your  own  business. 
But  I'm  sorry  you  don't  hate  and  distrust  him  as  much 

366 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

as  I  do.  Now  I'll  tell  you  what  I  found  down  there  to-day, 
and  how  the  thing  looks  to  me."  I  told  him. 

"Then,  if  all  that  is  so,  we  may  as  well  up  killick  and 
go  home,  eh?"  I  never  saw  a  more  disgusted  look  on  a 
man's  face,  or  heard  a  more  melancholy  tone. 

"I  haven't  told  you  that  to  discourage  you,  or  to  cry- 
baby myself.  I'm  giving  you  the  facts,  and  I  hope  you're 
practical  man  enough  to  keep  from  sneering  about  my 
efforts  the  way  Keedy  does.  I'm  doing  all  that  a  human 
being  can  do — but  you've  got  to  face  facts,  Captain 
Holstrom,  and  I've  been  giving  you  facts,  I  say.  That's 
the  situation — that's  all !  You  know  as  much  as  I  know. 
If  you  have  ideas,  think  'em  over  and  give  'em  to  me. 
I'll  keep  on  trying  to  think  up  something  myself."  I  went 
off  to  my  state-room  so  as  to  give  him  time  to  do  that 
thinking. 


XXXI 

A   TASTE   OF   BLOOD 

THE  old  Pacific  was  in  her  usual  welter  next  morning. 
The  big  seas  were  rolling  up  from  the  equator,  and 
we  could  hear  them  booming  in  on  the  coast-line. 

As  I  look  back  on  that  nightmare  off  the  bars  of  San 
Apusa  I  think  the  day  when  I  went  down  with  the  anchor 
was  the  calmest  day  of  our  stay.  With  the  everlasting 
thrust  of  the  trades  behind  them  the  billows  rolled,  rolled, 
rolled,  rolled — seethed  and  surged — giant  green  soldiers 
with  the  white  plumes,  charging  that  sandy  shore.  I 
got  to  feel  after  a  time  that  they  were  soldiers  in  real 
earnest,  and  that  they  were  after  me — poor  little  midget, 
who  was  trying  to  accomplish  the  impossible. 

At  breakfast  Mr.  Shank  ventured  to  remark  politely 
and  somewhat  nervously  that  he  was  supposing  I  would 
not  try  to  go  down  that  day. 

And  I  told  Mr.  Shank  rather  brusquely  that  of  course  I 
should  go  down,  and  added  that  if  we  were  to  wait  for 
smooth  water  in  soundings  on  the  lee  shore  of  the  Pacific 
Ocean  in  the  season  of  the  trades,  we  should  have  brought 
plenty  of  knitting-work  and  novels. 

Captain  Holstrom,  from  the  head  of  the  table,  smiled 
and  winked  at  me  with  the  most  cordial  expression  I  had 
ever  seen  on  his  face.  I  decided  that  one  of  my  partners 
was  regarding  me  in  a  more  amiable  frame  of  mind  than 
he  had  before  I  had  made  that  little  speech  to  him.  Mr. 
Keedy  scowled  at  me,  and  I  was  glad  of  that  mark  of  his 
continued  disesteem.  It  occurred  to  me  that  perhaps  I 
was  weaning  the  captain  from  Keedy,  for  Holstrom 

368 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

snapped  his  friend  up  rather  short  two  or  three  times 
during  the  meal. 

I  went  down  that  day  with  more  weights.  The  tug  of 
those  rollers  inshore  was  tremendous  for  a  buoyant  man, 
even  in  the  comparative  calm  of  the  previous  day.  I 
realized  what  I  would  meet  up  with  this  day,  and  I  was 
not  disappointed  in  my  reckoning. 

I  was  tumbled  from  hummock  to  hummock  of  the  sub- 
marine sand-bars.  I  was  knocked  down,  and  then  was 
stood  up  once  more.  Sometimes  I  was  lifted  off  my  feet, 
and  then  I  was  rolled  and  pressed  down  and  pinned  to  the 
sand  till  it  seemed  that  I  would  never  get  on  my  feet 
again.  Part  of  the  time  I  was  thrust  ahead  as  if  the 
Pacific  were  trying  to  make  me  walk  Spanish — and  then 
I  was  yanked  backward  on  all-fours  like  a  big  crab. 

I  knew  a  whole  lot  about  undertows,  and  I  realized  that 
I  was  having  an  experience  with  a  particularly  crazy  one. 

Men  who  have  observed  and  studied  think  they  have  a 
pretty  good  line  on  the  notions  and  the  moods  of  the  sea — 
but  take  it  from  me  as  a  submarine  diver,  they  haven't. 
If  one  is  standing  on  a  rock  and  looking  out  on  it,  or  sailing 
across  it  in  a  safe  boat,  the  ocean  becomes  a  matter  of 
"beautiful  surf,"  or  an  expanse  more  or  less  hubbly  with 
waves. 

But  get  down  into  it — get  down  deep  where  it  can  play 
with  you,  twirl  you,  toss  you,  suck  your  breath,  provided 
it  can  throttle  your  air-hose — where  it  can  work  all  its 
schemes  and  its  spite.  You  will  find  out  that  the  ocean 
has  a  new  trick  for  every  day. 

There  are  beaches  where  persons  have  bathed  in  safety 
for  years.  Then  all  at  once  some  day  a  shrieking  man  or 
woman  is  seized,  as  though  by  some  hidden  monster,  and 
is  dragged  off  to  death.  That  mighty  and  erratic  force 
is  called  an  undertow.  It  is  now  here,  now  there.  It  is 
born  out  of  diverted  currents,  checked  tide  rips.  It 
sneaks  up  bays,  seeking  prey;  it  roams  along  open  beaches. 
I  know  a  lot  more  about  undertows,  but  that's  all  for  now. 

369 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  was  in  one  that  day  off  San  Apusa.  Wind,  tide,  a 
current  wandering  off  its  course — one  of  the  currents  that 
is  uncharted  and  which  is  known  only  by  some  diver 
who  meets  it  on  its  wanderings  below  the  surface,  had 
combined,  and  had  come  to  play  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
wreck  of  the  old  Golden  Gate. 

I  struggled  on  toward  that  wreck.  Say,  I  met  an  old 
friend  of  mine.  It  was  the  mushroom  anchor,  and  it  was 
doing  a  sort  of  jig  on  top  of  a  sand  ridge  when  I  first 
saw  it.  Evidently  it  had  been  lonesome  during  the  night, 
and  it  had  come  to  meet  me.  It  was  at  least  one  hundred 
feet  on  the  sea  side  of  the  wreck — and  I  had  left  it  with 
fluke  buried  close  to  the  ribs.  If  that  undertow  had  dug 
up  that  anchor  it  might  be  doing  other  things.  That 
thought  came  to  me  like  a  flash  of  hope.  There's  no 
telling  what  an  undertow  will  do  when  it  gets  to  prancing, 
you  know! 

I  unlashed  the  crowbar  from  the  anchor  stock  and 
tumbled  on  over  the  ridges.  I  found  myself  in  an  opaque 
yellow  light  instead  of  in  the  green  radiance  I  had  found 
on  my  other  two  trips,  and  I  knew  that  the  sand  was  in 
motion  inshore.  When  I  came  to  the  wreckage  of  the 
steamer  I  did  not  know  my  way  about.  The  undertow 
had  been  dragging  away  the  packing  of  sand  here  and 
there.  More  bulk  of  the  debris  was  displayed,  so  far  as  I 
could  judge  by  touch  and  by  what  I  could  see  in  the  dim 
light.  I  groped  my  way  along  to  the  great  ribs  which 
showed  above  water,  in  order  to  get  my  bearing.  It  was 
a  fight  to  get  there.  I  was  thrashed  about  and  tossed  and 
slatted.  I  wasn't  exactly  sure  when  I  did  get  there,  for 
other  parts  of  the  wreck  had  been  uncovered  so  much 
that  one  could  easily  be  deceived  in  water  in  which  boiled 
so  much  sand  that  it  was  like  working  in  soup. 

However,  I  toiled  back  after  I  reckoned  I  had  located 
the  marker. 

Yes,  the  old  Pacific  had  truly  had  a  change  of  heart 
since  the  day  before.  The  unseen  fingers  of  that  freakish 

370 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

undertow  had  been  at  work — they  were  still  at  work. 
They  were  scooping  out  sand  instead  of  piling  it  in. 
I  can  best  describe  the  appearance  of  things  by  S'aying 
that  there  was  a  smother  of  sand  in  the  swirling  water. 
Now  and  then  the  water  cleared  when  the  undertow  let 
go  its  tuggings  for  a  moment,  and  I  could  see  parts  of  the 
steamer  which  formerly  had  been  hidden  from  me. 

When  I  had  counted  the  paces  that  should  bring  me 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  treasure,  I  set  my  crowbar 
into  the  sand  with  all  the  strength  I  could  muster,  and 
twisted  it  around  and  around  in  order  to  loosen  the  stuff. 
It  was  wonderful  how  quickly  the  water  dragged  away 
what  I  set  free  from  that  pack. 

A  bottle  came  bouncing  up  out  of  the  hole.  I  dis- 
lodged pieces  of  broken  crockery.  Ingot  Ike  had  said  that 
the  treasure  had  been  stored  in  a  compartment  of  the 
ship  near  the  pantry.  The  sight  of  that  jetsam  encouraged 
me.  I  stabbed  with  all  my  might,  drove  the  crowbar  in 
again  and  again,  struggled  to  hold  myself  on  bottom,  and 
muttered  appeals  to  that  undertow  in  my  frenzy  of  toil. 
I  do  not  know  how  long  I  worked.  I  do  know  that  all 
my  sensations  informed  me  that  I  was  remaining  beyond 
my  limit  of  endurance.  But  the  conviction  came  to  me 
that  this  was  not  a  chance  to  be  neglected.  I  was  in  a 
fever  of  hope.  I  wanted  to  show  that  coward  of  a  Marcena 
Keedy  that  a  strong  man  could  call  the  bluff  of  a  loafer's 
sneers.  I  wanted  to  convince  Capt.  Rask  Holstrom  that 
he  had  not  picked  out  a  piker,  and  perhaps  I  wanted  a 
girl  to  give  me  the  smile  which  success  ought  to  win. 

Well — and  here's  to  the  point ! — all  at  once,  when  I  was 
near  fainting,  my  crowbar  struck  something  which  was 
not  bottles  or  crockery.  I  managed  at  last  to  get  the  point 
of  the  bar  under  the  object.  I  could  not  see  what  it  was. 
I  only  knew,  as  I  worked  the  bar,  edging  it  around  the 
thing  to  dislodge  the  sand,  that  the  object  was  oblong  and 
had  corners. 

My  buoyancy  and  the  swing  of  the  rolling  sea  would 

37i 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

not  allow  me  to  pry  with  any  great  force.  I  could  only 
pick  at  the  sand  and  coax  the  box  out.  In  the  end  I  had 
it  where  I  could  get  my  fingers  under  the  edges — and 
there's  one  thing  a  diver  can  do:  he  can  lift  with  the 
strength  of  a  giant,  the  air  in  his  dress  assisting  him. 

Yes,  it  was  a  box,  so  I  found  when  I  had  it  out.  It  was 
a  heavy  box  even  when  lifted  there  under  the  sea.  It 
was  a  small  box,  and  there  could  be  only  one  reason  for 
such  a  small  box  being  so  heavy — it  was  one  of  the  bullion 
boxes.  Of  that  fact  I  was  convinced. 

I  carried  several  small  chains  at  my  belt — my  lashings 
in  case  of  need.  I  circled  the  box  with  chains,  and  se- 
cured it  to  my  body  as  best  I  could,  then  clutched  my  arm 
about  it  for  greater  safety.  As  I  worked  I  grew  more 
excited — I  had  drawn  first  blood  in  my  duel  with  the  old 
Pacific.  Excitedly  I  pulled  the  line  to  send  my  signal  to 
the  lighter,  asking  for  help  on  the  return.  They  told  me 
afterward  that  I  gave  the  emergency  signal.  Perhaps  I 
did.  They  had  been  waiting  for  a  signal  for  so  long  that 
they  were  in  a  state  of  panic.  They  feared  that  I  had  been 
drowned,  for  I  had  been  down  for  hours.  When  they  got 
my  double  tug,  so  they  told  me  later,  Number-two  Jones 
gave  a  yell,  called  every  man  on  the  lighter  to  the  rope, 
and  proceeded  to  give  me  a  run  home  in  emergency  time. 

The  first  yank  took  me  off  my  feet.  Overballasted  by 
the  box  of  gold,  I  tipped  head  down,  and  butted  the 
summit  of  the  first  hummock  of  sand  with  my  helmet. 
My  neck  was  snapped  to  one  side  and  my  head  got  a 
tremendous  rap  against  the  side  of  the  helmet.  I  did  not 
strike  ground  again  until  I  reached  the  next  ridge.  I 
struck  that  and  bounced,  and  I  think  I  took  a  recess  on 
breathing  right  then  and  there.  I  have  not  much  recol- 
lection of  the  rest  of  that  three  hundred  feet  of  rush  back 
to  the  lighter.  I  know  I  hit  a  good  many  hummocks,  and 
I  must  have  passed  away  into  dreamy  unconsciousness 
when  the  drag  upward  through  the  water  to  the  rail  of 
the  lighter  began. 

372 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

They  told  me  that  when  I  came  over  the  rail  I  was  bent 
double,  and  it  was  some  time  before  they  saw  that  I  had 
something  tucked  in  my  arms. 

I  heard  somebody  shout,  "Oh,  God,  this  man  is  dead!" 
But  I  was  just  getting  my  wits  back  then.  I  opened  my 
eyes.  Two  of  the  crew  were  holding  me  up,  and  Shank 
had  my  helmet  off .  He  yelled  like  a  maniac: 

"I'm  wrong !    He  ain't !' ' 

"I'm  mighty  glad  you're  wrong,  Shank,"  I  told  him. 
My  voice  was  pretty  feeble,  but  the  memory  of  that  box 
came  back  to  me,  and  my  thoughts  were  dancing  even  if 
I  couldn't  dance  with  my  body  just  then. 

I  tried  to  look  around  after  that  box,  but  I  lost  interest 
in  it  the  next  instant.  It's  pretty  hard  work  for  me  to 
tell  you  what  happened,  and  tell  it  in  a  matter-of-fact 
way,  as  I'm  trying  to  tell  the  rest  of  this  yarn.  When  I 
looked  around  I  saw  Kama  Holstrom  on  her  knees  a 
little  way  from  me,  her  face  as  pale  as  the  white  foam  on 
the  waves,  her  eyes  wide  open.  I  think  her  ears  had  been 
closed  by  horror  when  Shank  had  let  out  his  first  yell. 

"You're  alive!"  she  cried.  And  the  next  instant  I 
was  very  much  alive,  for  she  leaped  up  and  ran  to  me, 
and  threw  her  arms  around  my  neck  and  kissed  me 
squarely  on  the  mouth.  Then  her  face  was  no  longer 
white.  It  flamed. 

"I  didn't  mean  to — I  am  sorry — it  was  a  mistake!" 
she  gasped,  and  she  broke  out  and  cried  like  a  baby.  But 
I  caught  her  hand  before  she  could  get  out  of  reach  of  me, 
and  pulled  it  to  me  and  kissed  it. 

"Ah,  if  I  had  been  dead  you  would  have  waked  me  up," 
I  told  her. 

"I've  a  blamed  good  mind  to  kiss  you  myself!"  roared 
old  Holstrom  from  somewhere  behind  me.  Then  he  let 
out  a  whoop  and  came  and  capered  in  front  of  me. 

"You've  brought  up  twenty  thousand  dollars'  worth 
of  gold!"  he  informed  me.  "Five  ingots,  with  the  assay 
mark  on  'em,  and  each  worth  four  thousand  dollars.  That's 

373 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

the  kind  of  a  diver  you  are,  Sidney!  All  together,  men! 
Three  cheers  for  the  greatest  sea  diver  that  ever  wore 
lead  shoes!"  And  the  men  gave  the  cheers  while  he 
pounded  his  fists  on  my  back. 

I  got  a  view  of  Marcena  Keedy  when  I  turned  my  head 
around.  Mr.  Keedy  was  not  showing  any  interest  in  my 
condition — not  he.  He  was  sitting  on  deck  with  the 
open  box  hugged  between  his  knees,  and  he  was  feeling 
over  those  bars  of  gold  like  a  lover  fondling  his  lady's 
cheek. 

"I  can't  say  I'm  stuck  on  the  style  of  that  critter," 
mumbled  Shank  in  my  ear.  "He  yanked  that  box  away 
from  you  before  we  had  fairly  swung  you  inboard  and 
before  anybody  knew  you  was  alive.  He  pried  it  open, 
and  has  set  there  making  love  to  it  ever  since." 

Old  Ike  was  squatting  in  front  of  Keedy  on  his  haunches, 
and  was  drooling  like  a  hound  watching  a  butcher. 

"It's  there!  I've  always  said  it  was  there.  It's  there 
all  bright  and  shining.  They  all  have  hooted  at  me  be- 
cause I  have  said  it  was  there.  Now  what  do  you  think?" 

"Nobody  has  been  a  game  sport  in  this  thing  except 
you  and  me,"  said  Keedy,  sticking  an  ingot  up  under 
Ike's  nose.  "Nobody  would  back  your  hand  till  I  came 
along.  I've  had  to  talk  everybody  over  before  anybody 
would  do  anything.  I  know  how  to  play  a  hand  with  a 
buried  card  in  it.  I've  played  that  hand  to  the  limit, 
and  now  see  what  has  happened.  When  you  fellows  are 
passing  cheers  around  you'd  better  hooray  for  the  man 
who  has  turned  the  trick — for  the  man  who  kept  at  it  till 
he  got  you  down  here." 

He  gave  me  a  nasty  side-glance  and  snuggled  the  box 
under  his  legs  just  as  though  he  had  recovered  property 
which  belonged  to  him. 

"Where  there's  one  there's  the  rest  of  'em,  eh,  Sidney? 
You  have  found  the  nest  of  the  beauties,  eh?  Well,  do 
we  get  another  nice  little  box  to-day?  We  may  as  well 
open  the  game  with  forty  thousand  while  we're  about  it." 

374 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

Shank  was  leaning  close  to  me,  unscrewing  the  wing 
nuts  between  the  breastplate  and  my  collar-band.  He 
began  to  swear  very  soulfully  in  an  undertone,  and  he 
kept  on  swearing  when  he  got  a  look  from  me  that  in- 
dorsed all  his  sentiments  in  regard  to  Mr.  Keedy. 

"There  are  three  millions  down  there — and  twenty 
thousand  is  only  a  flea-bite,"  declared  the  callous  knave. 
I  don't  believe  he  noticed  that  I  was  half  dead  when  I 
was  pulled  up — or  cared  a  rap  about  my  condition,  any- 
way. "I'm  strong  for  bulling  the  game  when  it's  coming 
your  way.  What  do  you  say,  Sidney,  if  we  make  the 
first  day's  ante  forty  thousand?" 

"Captain  Holstrom,"  I  said,  "a  man  who  has  been 
banging  the  soul  out  of  himself  for  five  hours  in  a  diving- 
suit  is  in  no  condition  to  talk  to  a  skunk  like  that  over 
there.  Can't  you  say  something?" 

I  must  confess  that  the  captain  did  rise  nobly  to  the 
occasion.  A  tugboat  man  who  has  spent  most  of  his  life 
fighting  for  berths  in  the  maze  of  shipping  along  the  San 
Francisco  water-front  needs  considerable  hot  language 
in  his  business,  and  Captain  Holstrom  was  in  good 
practice. 

"So  I've  got  the  two  partners  against  me  now,  have 
I?"  snarled  Keedy.  "I  had  to  fight  to  get  the  two  of 
you  into  the  proposition,  and  now  that  you're  making 
good  I've  got  to  fight  both  of  you  to  keep  the  thing 
going,  have  I?  Thanks  for  the  hint  as  to  how  you  pro- 
pose to  hold  cards — but  I  serve  notice  right  now  that 
you  can't  whipsaw  me  between  you." 

He  looked  as  evil  as  a  door-tender  in  Tophet,  but  his 
threats  did  not  trouble  me. 

That  evening  something  happened  that  indicated 
further  cleavage  of  associations  on  board  the  Zizania, 
whose  checker-board  crew  had  set  an  example  early  in 
the  cruise. 

Ingot  Ike  came  to  the  captain  and  myself  in  the  wheel- 
house. 

25  375 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"Now  that  we're  beginning  to  haul  in  the  bright  and 
shining  stuff  that  makes  the  world  go  round  I'd  like  to 
know  where  I'm  going  to  get  off  when  the  diwy  comes," 
said  he.  And  he  was  more  than  a  little  insolent  in  the 
way  he  said  it.  It  was  a  good  guess  that  he  had  absorbed 
more  or  less  of  the  insolence  of  his  new  running-mate, 
Marcena  Keedy. 

Captain  Holstrom  was  pretty  short  with  the  man. 
He  informed  old  Ike  that  when  the  work  was  done  and 
we  knew  what  the  profits  would  be  he  would  be  handed 
a  lay  which  would  make  him  comfortable  for  life.  "That 
was  the  understanding  between  us  when  we  started  out 
on  the  gamble,"  said  the  captain.  "You  haven't  got  a 
dollar  ahead  now — you  never  did  have.  A  lot  of  money 
wouldn't  do  you  any  good,  anyway.  You  don't  know 
how  to  keep  it  or  how  to  spend  it." 

"That  ain't  any  of  your  business!"  declared  Ike,  with 
heat.  "We  have  begun  to  get  up  that  gold.  We'll  get 
all  of  it.  It's  there,  just  as  I  said  it  was.  I  want  ten  per 
cent,  of  all  that  comes  over  the  rail,  and  I  want  it  without 
any  strings  on  it." 

"And  if  you  got  it  laid  into  your  hand  you'd  be  around 
in  six  months  borrowing  from  me,"  said  the  captain.  "If 
this  thing  comes  out  as  it  ought  to,  I'll  put  enough  in 
trust  for  you  to  pay  you  a  hundred  dollars  a  month  as 
long  as  you  live.  Now  go  off  and  dream  of  that,  and  be 
happy." 

"Happy  your  Aunt  Lizy!"  yelped  the  old  man.  "See 
here,  me  and  Keedy  is  the  whole  thing  in  this,  and — " 

Captain  Holstrom  arose  and  grabbed  Ike  and  tossed 
him  out  of  the  wheel-house  door. 

"Them  two  fellows,"  he  confided,  wrathfully,  to  me, 
"will  be  charging  me  board  on  this  trip,  besides  taking  all 
the  profits  for  themselves,  if  I  don't  watch  out." 

I  did  not  confide  to  the  captain  any  of  my  doubts  that 
evening  in  our  talk.  I  was  hoping  for  the  best.  I  had 
recovered  one  box  with  the  assistance  of  my  enemy,  the 

376 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

old  Pacific.  I  understood  the  queer  and  notional  quirks 
of  undertows.  I  realized  that  history  might  not  repeat 
itself  in  this  case — but  the  Pacific  coast  was  new  to  me, 
and  I  was  not  ready  to  believe  that  I  had  happened  on  the 
only  case  of  an  undertow  scooping  sand  instead  of  piling 
it  and  packing  it.  I  went  to  bed,  tired  as  a  hound  after  a 
chase. 

And  I  went  down  into  the  sea  again  the  next  day,  still 
hoping.  Yes,  I  was  fairly  confident — so  confident  that 
I  carried  a  pair  of  ice-tongs.  My  experience  of  the  day 
before  had  shown  me  that  this  tool  was  just  the  thing 
with  which  to  grapple  one  of  those  boxes  and  lift  it  from 
the  sand. 

There  was  plenty  of  motion  in  the  depths  of  the  sea. 
But  I  realized  that  it  was  not  the  motion  of  the  day  before. 
The  swaying  water  thrust  me  ahead  over  the  hummocks 
with  more  force  than  it  pulled  me  backward.  The  water 
was  clear  and  green  once  more.  Where,  oh,  where  had 
my  undertow  gone? 

I  had  ground  my  crowbar  into  the  sand  where  I  worked 
the  day  before.  I  could  not  find  it,  and  after  a  survey  I 
saw  it  had  been  covered  by  the  drifting  sand.  Portions  of 
the  wreck  which  had  been  in  sight  were  hidden  again. 
The  hole  where  I  had  wrought  so  valiantly  was  filled  and 
smoothed.  It  is  wonderful  how  quickly  currents  of  water 
can  make  changes  in  sand.  I  had  seen  instances  before 
in  my  submarine  jobs;  now  I  was  beholding  a  more  strik- 
ing case.  After  inspecting  the  scene  I  judged  that  the 
treasure  was  buried  more  deeply  than  ever.  The  ocean 
had  plenty  of  loose  sand  with  which  to  work,  and  had 
used  it.  I  tell  you  honestly  I  never  suffered  such  an 
awful  feeling  of  disappointment.  The  pang  was  worse 
because  I  had  been  successful  once. 

It  was  as  though  my  enemy,  the  ocean,  had  decided  to 
give  me  one  bite  of  the  fruit  of  success  in  order  to  whet 
the  appetite  of  my  expectations.  It  had  not  relented  in 
order  to  do  that — it  had  played  a  devilish  trick  on  me. 

377 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

It  had  shown  me  that  the  millions  were  there — money 
enough  for  all  that  life  or  love  might  require  in  this  world. 
I  had  got  a  peep — had  got  one  taste — and  the  malicious 
ocean  had  tucked  it  all  out  of  reach  once  more,  and  was 
making  faces  at  me  with  the  wrinkles  of  that  hard-packed 
sand. 

It  was  useless  to  remain  down  and  exhaust  myself.  I 
signaled,  and  returned  to  the  lighter. 

As  soon  as  my  bull's-eye  cleared  after  I  came  up  out  of 
the  bubbling  water  I  saw  Keedy.  He  was  perched  on  the 
rail  near  the  life-line  coils,  looking  down  at  me  like  a  fish- 
hawk  eying  its  prey.  For  a  moment  I  was  glad  I  did  not 
have  another  box.  I  enjoyed  his  disappointment. 

Then,  after  my  helmet  was  off,  I  told  Captain  Hol- 
strom  that  a  change  in  current  had  piled  up  the  sand  and 
that  nothing  could  be  done  that  day. 

"That's  it!"  raged  Keedy,  smacking  his  fist  into  his 
palm.  "You  wouldn't  take  my  advice  yesterday.  You 
wouldn't  follow  your  hand  when  the  cards  were  running 
right.  I  understand  about  those  things.  That  was  the 
time  to  double  the  ante !  I  know  how  to  play  the  game  for 
what  it's  worth.  There  ain't  any  brains  in  this  whole  outfit 
except  what  I've  got  under  my  hat.  I  see  it's  up  to  me 
to  go  down  there  and  show  you  how  to  do  this  thing." 

"I'll  be  out  of  this  diving-dress  in  a  few  minutes,"  I 
told  him.  "You're  welcome  to  use  it." 

I  had  a  wild  hope  that  he  was  mad  enough  to  go  down — 
angry  enough  and  gold-hungry  enough.  It  would  have 
settled  the  case  of  Keedy  if  he  had  gone  down — soaked 
with  rum  and  tobacco  as  he  was.  But  he  swore  and 
walked  away  and  jumped  into  the  life-boat — so  much  of 
a  coward  that  he  wanted  to  put  as  great  a  distance  be- 
tween that  dress  and  himself  as  he  could. 

I  can  describe  the  happenings  of  the  next  two  sad  weeks 
in  two  words,  "Nothing  doing!" 

Not  that  I  didn't  go  down.  I  went  every  day.  I  tried 
all  kinds  of  tools.  I  sat  up  nights  to  think,  and  worked 

378 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

days  under  water  until  they  had  to  pull  me  back  to  the 
lighter,  riding  on  my  back  over  the  sand  hummocks,  so 
weak  that  I  could  not  use  my  feet  and  drag  my  lead- 
weighted  shoes.  But  the  old  Pacific  had  given  us  our  one 
mouthful  of  bait,  and  now  was  mocking  us.  If  I  loosened 
sand  the  ocean  took  that  sand  and  piled  it  higher  over  the 
treasure.  And  all  the  time  Keedy  glowered  and  growled 
and  swore,  and  said  I  was  not  half  trying. 

One  morning  Captain  Holstrom  came  banging  on  my 
state-room  door  before  I  was  awake.  He  tried  to  tell  me 
something,  fairly  frothing  at  the  mouth,  but  the  words 
tumbled  over  each  other  so  rapidly  that  I  couldn't  under- 
stand. He  was  jabbing  a  slip  of  paper  at  me,  and  I  took 
it  and  read: 

To  HOLSTROM  AND  SIDNEY, — With  two  partners  working 
against  me,  I  claim  the  partnership  is  broken.  After  this  I'll 
work  on  my  own  hook,  and  I'll  have  a  man  who  is  a  real  diver, 
not  a  dub;  and  I  warn  you  not  to  bother  me  in  any  way. 

"Partnership  broken!"  yelled  the  captain.  "And  how 
do  you  suppose  he  has  broken  it?  He  sneaked  away  in 
the  night.  He  took  Ike  and  four  of  my  crew  and  the  best 
life-boat.  But  that  ain't  the  worst.  He  took  the  gold — 
all  of  it!  Took  the  twenty  thousand.  He  had  the  key 
to  the  safe." 

"Why  did  you  let  him  have  the  key  to  the  safe?" 

"Because  he  howled  around  that  he  ought  to  have  some 
office  as  a  partner,  and  wanted  to  be  treasurer.  He  has 
trimmed  us  for  twenty  thousand,  and  he'll  use  that  money 
to  fit  out  another  expedition.  He  has  done  us  good  and 
proper,  and  there  ain't  anything  sensible  we  can  do 
about  it." 

I  reflected  a  few  moments,  and  decided  that,  considering 
the  kind  of  a  project  we  were  working  on,  we  could  not 
afford  to  chase  Keedy  and  howl.  In  the  opinion  of  cer- 
tain persons  interested  in  that  wreck,  we  might  appear 
as  thieves,  ourselves,  if  the  thing  became  known  in  Frisco. 

379 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  tried  to  say  something  to  Captain  Holstrom  about 
being  well  rid  of  Keedy,  but  I  do  not  think  he  heard  me. 
He  was  too  busy  stamping  about  and  swearing.  That 
was  truly  a  dark-blue  morning  on  the  Zizania. 

They  were  certainly  weary  and  hopeless  days  which 
tagged  on  after  that.  I  kept  going  down,  for  I  hoped  to 
meet  up  with  another  obliging  undertow.  But  San  Apusa 
Bar  did  not  seem  to  be  a  popular  resort  for  undertows. 

In  about  ten  days  we  got  another  hard  jolt.  A  little 
schooner  came  swashing  up  in  the  lee  of  the  Zizania,  and  a 
boat  was  rowed  off  to  us.  The  two  men  who  leaped  over 
the  rail  introduced  themselves  as  Mexican  customs 
officers  for  the  district  off  which  we  lay,  and  they  wore 
the  uniform  to  prove  their  identity.  It  had  been  reported 
to  them,  they  said,  that  we  were  seeking  treasure  from  the 
wreck  of  the  Golden  Gate,  and  they  told  us  we  must  stop 
such  business  at  once  and  sail  away  or  we  should  lay  our- 
selves liable  to  arrest  and  imprisonment.  They  had  a  lot 
to  tell  us  about  what  the  law  was,  but  I  have  forgotten. 
Maybe  they  were  giving  us  straight  law,  and  maybe  they 
were  not.  Neither  Holstrom  nor  I  knew. 

The  captain  did  know  men  if  he  did  not  know  law — 
and  he  was  a  man  who  had  mighty  keen  sense  for  a  crook's 
trail,  having  had  a  lot  of  experience  with  crooks  on  the 
water-front.  He  rubbed  his  red  knob  of  a  nose  for  some 
time,  and  listened.  Then  he  invited  the  customs  men 
into  his  sanctuary  of  the  wheel-house,  and  called  me  along 
with  them. 

"  I  know  all  about  who  has  been  talking  this  over  with 
you,  gents,"  he  told  them.  "I  reckoned  he  would  make 
down  the  coast  in  that  life-boat  he  stole  from  me.  He 
stole  that  boat,  he  stole  my  men,  he  stole  what  else  he 
could  lay  his  hands  on  here.  He  is  a  yaller-faced  faro- 
dealer.  He  never  told  the  truth,  he  never  dealt  square 
cards,  he  has  always  cut  a  corner  on  every  man  he  had 
business  with.  I  don't  want  to  see  you  fooled.  I'm  the 
captain  of  this  steamer.  You  can  see  I'm  something  of  a 

380 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

man.  This  is  my  partner,  and  you  can  look  at  him  and 
see  that  he  is  no  crook.  I'm  going  to  get  right  to  the 
point,  gents.  Do  you  want  to  do  business  with  a  square 
man  or  a  crook?  You  might  as  well  be  open  with  me. 
Men  have  to  live  down  here  in  Mexico.  I  know  all  about 
this  customs  business  along  the  coast.  You've  got  to  do 
business  to  live." 

They  blinked  hard,  but  they  did  not  protest. 

"I  don't  know  how  much  of  a  'hot  rock'  he  dropped 
into  your  hat,  but  I'm  prepared  to  drop  in  a  bigger  and 
a  hotter  one." 

I  had  never  heard  that  expression  about  a  "hot  rock" 
before,  and  I  was  obliged  to  listen  a  little  while  longer  in 
order  to  understand  that  Captain  Holstrom  was  talking 
thus  bluntly  about  a  bribe. 

"In  one  case  you're  doing  business  with  a  crook — a 
thief.  He'll  turn  around  and  do  you  when  he  has  used 
you.  In  this  case  you  are  dealing  with  a  man  who  has 
a  name  along  the  water-front,  who  owns  this  steamer, 
and  who  is  here  to  make  a  dollar  for  himself  and  for  you. 
You  are  men  with  brains  and  you  can  size  up  chaps  pretty 
well.  I'll  bet  you  didn't  like  the  looks  of  that  whelp 
with  his  cat's  eyes  and  his  mustache  cocked  up — come, 
now!" 

They  blinked  harder. 

The  captain  leaned  to  me  and  whispered  in  my  ear: 
"Run  and  tell  Kama  to  give  you  every  gold  piece  she 
has  got  in  her  pocket.  Dig  over  your  own  pockets. 
Tell  the  Joneses  to  dig.  Bring  it  here.  I've  got  to  keep 
'em  on  the  run  with  conversation." 

I  returned  with  my  collection,  and  the  captain  added 
the  contents  of  his  own  pocket,  banging  the  coins  on  the 
transom.  Then  he  swept  the  money  into  a  little  sack 
and  drove  the  sack  down  into  the  trousers  pocket  of  one 
of  the  officers. 

"That's  only  posting  a  little  forfeit  that  we'll  do  as  we 
agree,"  cried  Captain  Holstrom,  heartily.  "We  are  here 

381 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

where  you  can  watch  us,  gents.  But  you  can't  watch 
a  fly-by-night  like  that  coyote  who  has  been  lying  to  you 
about  us.  Keep  your  eyes  out — stand  by  us — and 
you'll  get  a  'hot  rock'  in  your  hat  that  you'll  need  both 
hands  to  hold  up.  We'll  see  the  other  man's  stake  and 
then  raise  him  out  of  the  game — and  if  we  don't,  then 
come  and  seize  the  steamer." 

He  followed  the  men  to  the  rail,  shook  hands  with 
them  half  a  dozen  times,  and  they  returned  most  urbane 
grins  when  they  rowed  away. 

As  soon  as  they  were  out  of  ear-shot  the  captain  cursed 
them  in  horrible  fashion  and  shook  his  clenched  fist  at 
them  under  pretense  of  waving  farewells. 

"So  that's  what  Keedy  done  as  quick  as  he  got  down 
coast  to  a  port,  hey?  Cleaned  us  out  of  what  he  could 
lug,  and  then  sent  them  critters  here  to  finish  the  job. 
He  probably  thinks  he  is  going  to  make  a  clear  field  here 
for  himself  by  strapping  us  for  every  cent,  and  then  setting 
the  customs  on  to  us  as  soon  as  he  can  drop  another  '  hot 
rock'  into  their  hat  so  as  to  raise  us  out." 

"  Don't  those  men  feel  bound  in  any  way  after  taking 
money  from  us?"  I  asked  him. 

"They  feel  bound  till  the  next  fellow  gets  to  'em,  my 
son.  Do  you  see  what  we  have  got  cut  out  for  us?  By 
the  jumped-up  Judy,  we've  got  to  get  that  gold — and 
we've  got  to  keep  ahead  of  everybody  else  in  getting  that 
gold,  because  them  custom-house  blood-suckers  are  going 
to  stick  to  the  juiciest  crowd.  I  don't  know  what  kind 
of  an  outfit  Keedy  proposes  to  bring  back  here,  but  he 
has  got  twenty  thousand  dollars  in  his  fist,  and  a  man 
can  do  a  lot  of  business  on  charters  with  twenty  thousand 
dollars.  And  we  haven't  got  a  sou  markee." 

He  stamped  into  the  wheel-house,  shaking  his  fist  above 
his  head,  and  I  walked  up  and  down  the  upper  deck, 
thinking  some  thoughts  which  I  do  not  care  to  call  back 
to  mind. 


XXXII 

PER  MISTER  MONKEY 

A?  she  had  done  many  times  in  those  days  of  gloom 
and  doubt,  the  girl  came  out  of  her  state-room  and 
walked  with  me.  Her  companionship  was  a  consolation. 
She  looked  up  at  me  from  under  her  tousle  of  curls  and 
swung  along  by  my  side  with  an  easy  air  of  comradeship. 

The  word  "comradeship"  best  expresses  our  attitude 
toward  each  other.  After  that  explosion  of  her  feelings 
on  board  the  lighter,  when  she  had  kissed  me  in  front  of 
the  whole  bunch,  she  had  coated  herself  with  just  a  little 
ice,  and  my  Yankee  reserve  and  sensitiveness  detected  it. 
It  was  as  though  she  had  hinted  to  me  that  I  would  be  a 
cad  to  presume  further  because  she  had  taken  a  woman's 
interest  in  my  misfortune.  In  fact,  she  had  dropped  a 
few  words  in  regard  to  women  making  fools  of  them- 
selves when  they  are  too  frightened  to  know  what  they 
are  doing. 

Furthermore,  she  stuck  to  that  knickerbocker  costume 
of  hers,  and  I  found  myself  forgetting  half  the  time  that 
she  was  a  girl,  for  she  clambered  about  over  the  truck 
aboard  the  old  Zizania  as  no  girl  in  skirts  could,  and 
never  needed  a  hand  on  her  trips  to  and  from  the  lighter. 
She  wore  those  clothes  with  such  frank  assurance  that  the 
garb  was  the  only  suitable  one  for  the  circumstances, 
with  such  lack  of  self-consciousness,  that  after  a  few  days 
it  really  seemed  as  if  the  other  men  had  forgotten  that 
we  had  a  girl  aboard. 

Perhaps  that  accounts  for  the  fact  that  when  one  of 
the  firemen  rushed  past  us  a  few  minutes  later  he  was 

383 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

using  language  such  as  he  would  not  have  used  had  he 
been  properly  mindful  that  there  was  a  lady  in  hearing. 

The  fireman  came  from  the  depths  below-decks,  and 
was  chasing  the  Russian  Finn's  monkey.  He  was  so  intent 
on  the  chase  that  when  the  fleeing  monkey  invaded  the 
sanctity  of  the  upper  deck  the  fireman  came  along,  too. 
There  were  several  breathless  instants  in  that  part  of  the 
pursuit  which  we  saw.  You  will  recollect  that  this  monkey 
had  a  false  end  to  his  mutilated  tail — a  curved  wire,  which 
was  covered  with  cat's  fur.  As  the  monkey  fled,  scream- 
ing and  swinging  the  heavy  end  of  the  tail  from  side  to 
side,  the  hook  caught,  first  on  a  stanchion,  then  on  a  life- 
boat prop.  The  monkey  had  not  entirely  mastered  the 
science  of  handling  that  new  tail,  or  else  he  was  too  ex- 
cited just  then  to  remember  its  limitations.  When  he 
had  his  own  pliant  tail  it  didn't  matter  if  a  loop  hooked 
around  an  obstruction.  But  now  when  the  wire  hooked 
itself  the  monkey  was  obliged  to  back  up  and  unhook  that 
inflexible  loop.  Each  time  he  stopped  he  lost  all  the  lead 
he  had  gained  on  the  fireman. 

Four  times  in  traversing  the  upper  deck  the  coal-heaver 
was  near  enough  to  make  a  crack  at  the  monkey  with  a 
grate  bar.  Each  time  the  monkey  unhooked  himself  just 
in  time  to  be  able  to  dodge  and  continue  the  flight.  Finally 
the  fugitive  made  the  ensign  mast  by  a  rousing  leap, 
shinned  up,  and  hung  over  the  dingy  gilded  ball  at  the 
top.  I  don't  understand  monkey  talk,  but  I'm  sure  that 
the  yells  he  sent  down  were  just  as  pure  profanity  as  that 
which  the  fireman  was  howling  up  at  him. 

"Hey,  there,  my  man,"  I  called,  "that  kind  of  talk 
doesn't  belong  up  here." 

He  shut  up,  gave  the  monkey  a  long  and  blistering 
stare,  and  came  back  toward  the  ladder.  Sweat  was 
running  down  through  the  soot  on  his  face,  and  that  face 
showed  that  he  was  in  no  pleasant  frame  of  mind. 

"I  asks  to  be  excused,"  he  said,  "but  that — "  he 
gulped.  "Seeing  that  I  can't  talk  about  it  before  a  lady 

384 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

and  be  polite,  I  asks  to  be  excused  again  and  I'll  be 
going." 

I  followed  him  to  the  head  of  the  ladder  and  stopped 
him  just  as  he  was  on  the  first  rounds. 

"What  happened?" 

"We're  keeping  up  a  little  steam  for  the  derrick  wind- 
lass and  the  pumps,  and  that  gimlet-eyed,  snub-nosed 
hellion  got  into  the  bunkers  when  I  was  on  deck,  and 
turned  on  my  wet-down  hose,  and  shifted  twenty  tons  of 
dust  coal  out  to  where  it's  all  got  to  be  shoveled  back. 
I'm  going  down  to  write  out  notices  for  a  funeral  and, 
by  Jabez!  I'll  guarantee  to  have  the  corpse  ready!" 

"Shifted  twenty  tons  of  coal!"  said  I,  surprised.  "It 
must  have  taken  him  some  time." 

"I  guess  you  don't  know  what  can  be  done  in  fine  coal 
with  a  stream  of  water  when  you  bore  it  in,"  snapped 
the  fireman.  "That  wire-tailed  gabumpus  wasn't  in 
there  five  minutes.  He  has  laid  in  wait  and  watched  me 
sprinkle  coal.  He  turned  her  on  full  bent  and  bored. 
I'll  get  him,  and  I'll  get  him  good!"  His  smudged  face 
went  out  of  sight  down  the  ladder. 

There  are  some  ideas  in  this  life  which  steal  up  on  a 
man  and  whisper  to  him,  and  keep  whispering  for  a  long 
time,  until  at  last  he  overhears — and  then  he  plans  and 
toils,  and  in  the  end  an  invention  results. 

Then  there  are  other  ideas  which  march  up  to  a  man 
and  hit  him  on  the  head. 

Twenty  tons  of  coal  shifted  in  five  minutes  by  a  monkey 
and  a  hose!  The  idea  that  hit  me  was  like  a  hammer 
blow.  My  head  wasn't  clear  all  at  once;  I  was  dizzy. 
The  details  were  hazy — but  there  was  the  idea  hammering 
at  me.  It  was  such  a  glorious  idea  that  I  walked  aft  to 
that  ensign  mast,  looked  up,  and  took  off  my  hat  to  that 
monkey.  I  know  he  misunderstood  my  act.  I  know  he 
cursed  me  as  another  enemy.  But  I  did  not  care.  I  had 
got  used  to  being  misunderstood  and  underrated  aboard 
the  Zizania. 

385 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  turned  around  and  found  the  girl  looking  at  me  with 
wide-open  eyes.  "This  isn't  insanity,"  I  told  her.  "It 
doesn't  run  in  the  Sidney  family.  But  an  idea  has  just 
come  to  me  out  of  a  monkey's  prank,  and  it's  such  a 
wonderful  idea  that  I  don't  dare  to  talk  about  it  until  I 
have  thought  it  over.  I  guess  you'll  have  to  excuse  me, 
Miss  Kama;  I've  got  to  go  into  my  state-room  and  pound 
at  that  idea  while  it  is  hot." 

I  did  not  sleep  much  that  night.  I  was  wrestling  with 
a  notion  as  the  old  chap  in  the  Bible  wrestled  with  the 
angel.  And  when  morning  came  I  was  positive  that  an 
angel  of  a  notion  had  come  to  me.  I  told  Captain 
Holstrom  at  breakfast  that  I  was  not  going  down  that 
day.  But  when  he  turned  a  doleful  look  at  me  I  grinned 
so  amiably  that  he  snapped  his  eyes,  thinking,  perhaps, 
that  he  was  not  seeing  just  straight. 

"I'll  have  something  to  tell  you  later,  Captain.  It  '11 
sound  better  to  you  when  I  have  made  certain  that  we 
have  got  stuff  aboard  here  to  work  out  an  idea." 

That  became  my  business  after  breakfast — to  hunt 
the  Zizania  over  for  certain  material.  I  invited  Cap- 
tain Holstrom  along  with  me,  and  took  two  men  for 
helpers. 

My  first  quest  was  for  hose.  The  Zizania  carried  canvas 
hose  for  fire  purposes,  stacked  here  and  there  on  racks. 
It  was  not  in  prime  condition,  for  the  old  Zizania  had 
been  condemned  along  with  her  equipment  as  far  as 
Government  purposes  went. 

We  got  that  hose  down  and  measured  it,  and  found 
rising  two  hundred  feet  of  stuff  that  was  serviceable.  I 
needed  three  hundred  feet  to  cover  the  distance  between 
the  lighter  and  the  wreck.  I  made  inquiries  about  can- 
vas. The  steamer  had  a  suit  of  sails  for  her  two  masts, 
and  the  sails  had  been  unbent  some  time  before  and  were 
stored.  Before  the  day  was  over  Mate  Number-two 
Jones  had  men  at  work  cutting  that  canvas  and  sewing  it 
into  hose  of  a  diameter  to  fit  the  fire-hose.  Of  course,  it 

386 


was  crude  work,  but  I  was  obliged  to  do  the  best  I  could 
with  the  materials  at  hand. 

That  evening  I  called  a  conference.  Captain  Holstrom, 
his  two  mates,  and  Engineer  Shank  assembled  in  the 
wheel-house,  and  I  explained  as  best  I  could  what  my 
preparations  meant. 

Remember,  please,  that  at  the  time  of  which  I  am 
writing  hydraulic  mining  had  not  been  tried,  and  men 
in  those  days  had  no  conception  of  what  a  stream  of  water 
would  accomplish  in  moving  soil. 

I  told  those  blinking  confreres  that  I  believed  I  could 
direct  a  stream  of  water  on  that  sand  below  the  sea 
and  bore  a  hole  down  to  that  treasure.  The  only  one 
in  the  party  who  showed  one  glimmer  of  enthusiasm  was 
Mr.  Shank.  And  even  he  did  not  get  up  and  hurrah.  He 
nodded  his  head  sagely  and  admitted  that  "stranger 
things  had  happened." 

"But  you've  got  to  use  our  steam -donkey  for  your 
stream,"  growled  Captain  Holstrom,  "and  you  can't  get 
the  Zizania  any  nearer  shore  than  this  without  wrecking 
her.  You're  only  planning  on  three  hundred  feet  of 
hose." 

"That's  all  I  need,  Captain.  Mr.  Shank  can  build  us 
a  plunger-pump  with  brakes,  and  we'll  put  the  whole 
crew  on  to  the  beams,  and  have  'em  give  an  imitation  of 
a  firemen's  muster." 

Mr.  Shank  nodded  again,  and  allowed  that  "stranger 
things  had  been  done." 

"How  did  you  happen  to  think  of  this  cussed  scheme, 
anyway?"  inquired  Captain  Holstrom,  not  trying  to  hide 
his  disappointment. 

I  promptly  decided  that  I  would  not  confess  that  the 
thing  had  been  suggested  to  me  by  a  monkey  with  a  wire 
tail.  I  looked  at  the  scowling  captain,  and  I  could 
imagine  the  wealth  of  his  language  if  I  should  tell  him 
any  such  thing.  So  I  took  all  the  credit  to  myself — and 
it  was  not  much  credit  I  received  from  those  solemn 

387 


listeners.  The  most  I  got  out  of  Holstrom  was  the  sul- 
len statement  that  no  matter  what  I  did  next  the  situa- 
tion couldn't  be  any  worse  than  it  was. 

The  work  went  on  the  next  day,  and  the  day  after,  and 
the  day  after  that.  It  was  slow  business  making  that 
hose  so  that  it  would  be  anyway  water-tight.  And  the 
wooden  force-pump  took  a  lot  of  time  in  the  building, 
rude  affair  though  it  was.  It  had  a  plunger — two  ends 
of  wood  on  an  iron  rod,  and  the  brake-beams  were  long 
enough  so  that  a  dozen  men  could  get  a  clutch  on  them. 

I  don't  remember  how  much  time  we  used  up  in  getting 
our  makeshift  apparatus  into  such  shape  as  would  warrant 
it  being  used  for  the  trial. 

I  do  remember  this — and  remember  it  all  too  well! — 
before  we  were  in  readiness  for  the  test  of  the  hose  and 
our  pump  a  small  schooner  came  rolling  up  the  coast  and 
anchored  well  inside  of  us,  even  nearer  the  wreck  than 
our  lighter  from  which  we  had  been  operating. 

This  was  no  customs  boat.  Within  a  few  hours  we 
abroad  the  Zizania  knew  that  Marcena  Keedy  was  in 
command  of  the  new  arrival,  and  that  he  had  brought  two 
divers  and  was  full  of  hope  and  curses  and  brag. 

Where  Keedy  secured  his  men  and  his  craft  we  did  not 
know — for  social  calls  were  not  exchanged  between  the 
two  vessels.  But  a  lot  can  be  accomplished  in  a  few 
weeks  when  a  man  has  greed  to  prick  him,  a  grudge  to 
settle,  and  twenty  thousand  dollars  to  back  him. 

Capt.  Rask  Holstrom  had  been  in  the  depths  of  de- 
spair before  the  arrival  of  Keedy;  now  he  found  a  hole 
leading  into  the  subcellar  of  his  despair,  and  retreated 
still  lower.  He  had  no  faith  in  my  new  contrivances. 
He  wanted  me  to  abandon  work  on  such  folderols  and  go 
down  and  stand  over  that  treasure.  He  could  not  seem 
to  see  with  my  eyes.  He  knew  that  millions  in  gold  were 
at  the  bottom  of  the  sea — I  had  recovered  a  sample  of  it. 
He  felt  just  as  though  it  lay  there  unprotected,  and  that 
the  first-comer  would  get  it.  As  a  submarine  diver  who 

388 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

had  struggled  against  the  difficulties  of  the  situation,  I 
was  more  serene.  I  didn't  know  what  sort  of  prodigies 
in  the  diving  line  Keedy  had  secured  as  my  rivals,  but 
I  was  not  ready  to  admit  to  myself  that  they  would  suc- 
ceed by  ordinary  means  where  I  had  failed  after  exerting 
every  ounce  of  effort. 

Using  Captain  Holstrom's  long  telescope,  I  saw  them 
going  down.  They  went  together.  Evidently  Keedy  had 
concluded  that  if  one  diver  had  failed,  two  ought  to  be 
twice  as  good,  and  succeed. 

Captain  Holstrom  remained  at  the  end  of  his  telescope 
until  he  acquired  a  permanent  squint.  We  had  hard 
work  to  get  him  to  drop  the  glass  long  enough  to  eat. 
Day  after  day,  as  soon  as  it  was  light  in  the  morning,  he 
was  in  the  wheel-house,  balancing  the  glass  across  the 
window-sill,  watching  Keedy's  schooner.  He  evidently 
feared  and  expected  to  see  uncounted  wooden  boxes  of 
ingots  come  tumbling  up  over  her  rail. 

My  equipment  had  been  almost  ready  when  Keedy 
arrived,  but  now  another  consideration  held  me  back.  I 
did  not  propose  to  let  the  other  crowd  in  on  my  methods 
if  I  could  help  it.  No  matter  what  Captain  Holstrom  and 
his  associates  thought  of  the  feasibility  of  the  scheme,  I 
had  a  lot  of  confidence  in  it,  and  was  not  willing  that  a 
rival  should  know  enough  about  it  to  copy  any  plans. 

Therefore  I  set  my  crew  at  work  building  a  wall  of 
boards  about  the  lighter,  leaving  only  a  door  for  my  exit 
over  the  side.  I  wanted  to  conceal  the  pumping  opera- 
tions. As  to  the  divers  whom  I  should  meet  at  the  scene 
of  the  wreck,  I  trusted  to  other  measures  to  conceal  my 
system. 

I  was  out  on  the  lighter  to  superintend  the  building  of 
the  wall,  and  more  especially  to  oversee  the  setting  of 
the  force-pump  and  its  attachments.  I  did  not  like  the 
looks  of  the  sea  on  that  last  day  of  our  work.  It  looked 
murky  and  slaty  as  the  big  rollers  surged  under  us,  and  I 
remembered  that  it  showed  that  same  color  on  the  day 

389 


WHERE    YOUR    TREASURE    IS 

when  my  friendly  undertow  had  helped  me.  I  was  tempted 
to  go  down  and  investigate,  but  I  had  seen  the  men  from 
Keedy's  schooner  go  overboard,  and  I  concluded  to  keep 
away  from  contact  with  them  until  I  was  ready  for 
serious  operations. 

Inclosed  in  my  wall  on  the  lighter,  I  was  busy  about 
my  own  affairs,  and  did  not  peep  to  see  what  was  happen- 
ing in  the  neighborhood. 

Captain  Holstrom  remained  on  the  Zizania,  in  close 
companionship  of  his  only  intimate  of  those  days — his 
long  telescope.  But  Kama  Holstrom  was  at  my  side 
while  I  worked,  cheering  me  by  her  wise  little  comments, 
her  bright  eyes  taking  all  in,  her  quick  mind  grasping  all 
the  possibilities  of  my  scheme. 

It  was  a  rather  cheerful  little  group  there  in  our  pen. 
Even  Number-two  Jones  was  whistling  in  jig  time,  for 
all  the  apparatus  was  fitting  together  as  slick  as  a  school- 
marm's  hand  in  a  fur  mitten.  And  then  in  through  the 
door  burst  a  human  thunderbolt  in  the  form  of  Capt. 
Rask  Holstrom. 

He  was  bareheaded  and  his  gray  hair  was  scruffed  up 
like  the  bristling  mane  of  a  mad  bulldog.  He  was  not 
able  to  manage  words  for  about  a  minute,  but  he  wasn't 
voiceless  by  any  manner  of  means.  He  roared  and  leaped 
about  and  smote  his  fists  together.  He  picked  up  our 
hose  and  flung  it  about  himself  like  an  insane  snake 
charmer.  He  kicked  at  the  wooden  pump  with  his  stub- 
toed  shoes  until  I  was  obliged  to  push  him  away.  Then 
he  grabbed  the  hose  once  more,  and  reeled  it  about  himself 
in  senseless  fury,  for  all  the  world  like  a  caterpillar  weaving 
its  cocoon.  His  square  face  was  a  war  map  of  rage,  and 
in  the  center  of  that  face  his  red  nose  gleamed  like  a 
danger  signal. 

We  stood  and  gaped  at  him.  There  wasn't  much  else 
we  could  do  as  long  as  he  remained  in  that  awful  state. 
He  paid  no  attention  to  his  daughter's  questions  and 
appeals. 

390 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  took  a  peep  through  the  cracks  of  the  boarding  to  see 
whether  the  old  Zizania  were  still  afloat ;  I  had  a  horrified 
suspicion  that  she  had  sunk  or  burned.  She  floated 
serenely,  sweeping  up  and  down  on  the  crested  waves. 

After  letting  off  his  surplus  of  steam  in  howls,  Captain 
Holstrom  was  able  to  manage  speech  at  last. 

"They've  got  it!"  he  yelled.  "They're  getting  it! 
I've  seen  'em  pull  two  boxes  of  it  over  their  rail,  and 
they're  dancing  jubilee  around  the  deck."  He  flung  down 
the  coils  of  hose,  and  stamped  on  it,  and  spat  the  most 
vicious  oaths  I  ever  listened  to. 

"They're  getting  it — they've  got  it — and  all  you're 
doing  here  is  fooling  with  a  damnation  squirt-gun  that 
ain't  no  sense  and  no  good — and  I  told  you  so  in  the  first 
place.  Keedy  was  right.  I  ought  to  have  stuck  to  Keedy. 
I've  known  Keedy.  He  was  a  friend  of  mine  till  you  came 
along  and  broke  us  up.  I  had  promised  my  girl  to  him. 
He  ain't  setting  around  darning  second-hand  canvas" — 
he  kicked  the  hose — "when  he  ought  to  be  up  and  about, 
doing  real  business."  He  rushed  at  me  and  clacked  his 
fists  under  my  nose.  "I'm  all  done  with  you!  I'm  going 
to  Keedy  and  crawfish  and  offer  him  the  steamer  and 
my  equipment  for  a  lay  with  him  and  his  men.  I'll  offer 
him  my  girl.  You'll  marry  him  if  I  have  to  hold  you  up 
in  front  of  the  minister  by  the  ears!"  he  informed  her, 
whirling  and  shaking  his  fists  under  her  nose,  too.  "I've 
had  all  the  silly  notions  and  lallygagging  I  propose  to 
have,  and  what  I  say  goes  after  this.  It's  business  from 
now  on." 

He  started  to  plunge  back  through  the  door  like  a 
clown  through  a  hoop.  A  couple  of  his  men  were  holding 
a  yawl  beside  the  lighter. 

I  had  used  my  submarine  grip  on  Captain  Holstrom 
once  before  when  he  was  drunk.  I  used  it  now  when  he 
was  sober — and  the  grip  held.  I  grabbed  him  and  yanked 
him  back,  slammed  the  door,  and  set  myself  against  it. 

"You  can't  dissolve  partnership  with  me  in  any  such 
26  391 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

way,"  I  informed  him.  "Especially  not  right  now,  just 
as  I've  got  the  world  by  the  tail." 

"I'll  show  you  whether  I  can  dissolve  partnership  or 
not,"  he  barked;  and  he  began  running  about  the  in- 
closure,  roaring  threats  and  peering  here  and  there.  He 
was  plainly  hunting  for  a  weapon  of  some  sort  in  order 
to  beat  me  away  from  the  door. 

"Kama!"  I  called  to  her — the  first  time  I  had  ever 
addressed  her  so  familiarly,  but  that  was  no  time  for 
niceties.  "Kama,  it's  no  use  to  plead  with  your  father. 
He's  no  better  than  a  lunatic.  He's  going  to  throw  every- 
thing into  the  hands  of  that  thief  of  a  Keedy.  It  mustn't 
be  done!" 

The  captain  had  found  a  club  and  was  coming  at  me. 

She  put  herself  between  us.  He  knew  better  than  to 
raise  his  club  against  her,  and  he  kept  dodging  back  and 
forth  to  get  past  her.  He  paid  no  attention  to  her 
protests  and  appeals. 

"Mr.  Shank — Mr.  Jones,"  she  cried,  "take  that  club 
away  from  my  father.  He  is  not  in  his  right  mind." 

"It  would  be  mutiny — mutiny  and  State  prison," 
stammered  the  mate. 

"I'm  his  daughter — I'll  go  into  court  if  it  ever  comes 
to  that!  I  order  you  to  do  it!" 

"Keep  the  others  off,  and  I'll  do  it,"  I  said  in  her  ear, 
and  I  rushed  past  her. 

Holstrom  struck  at  me  viciously,  but  my  rush  had 
taken  him  by  surprise.  I  caught  his  arm  and  the  stick, 
and  tore  the  weapon  away  from  him.  But  to  down  him 
and  subdue  him  was  a  different  proposition — and  a  very 
husky  job  he  made  of  it  for  me. 

He  was  broad  and  sturdy;  he  was  sober,  and  he  was 
beside  himself  with  rage.  The  spectacle  of  that  gold 
going  into  the  hands  of  Keedy  and  his  gang  had  made  a 
lunatic  of  him  for  the  time  being.  I  got  no  help  from  the 
others.  Men  of  the  sea  and  ships,  they  had  a  wholesome 
fear  of  what  would  happen  to  mutineers  when  that  mat- 

392 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

ter  came  into  court.  I  struggled  with  that  old  rascal 
until  every  muscle  in  me  throbbed  with  the  pain  of  ten- 
sion, and  I  thought  the  blood  would  burst  through  my 
face.  No  matter  about  the  details  of  that  long  fight. 
But  at  last  I  got  him  down;  I  rolled  him  on  his  face.  I 
pulled  his  hands  together,  kneeling  on  him,  and  the  girl 
lashed  his  wrists  together  when  I  appealed  to  her.  She 
lashed  his  legs  as  well,  for  I  decided  to  take  no  chances  with 
him  while  he  was  in  that  mood. 

When  I  got  my  breath  I  leaned  over  him  and  spoke  my 
little  piece: 

"This  is  tough  business  for  all  of  us,  Captain  Holstrom. 
I  don't  know  what  may  come  out  of  it.  I'm  prepared  to 
take  my  medicine  if  I've  done  wrong.  But  you  have 
started  in  to  run  amuck.  You  ought  to  know  what 
Keedy  is  by  this  time.  He  has  done  you  once.  He 
would  do  you  worse  the  next  time.  If  you  weren't  crazy 
at  this  minute  you'd  realize  it.  I  don't  propose  to  stand 
by  and  see  you  heave  your  best  chance  over  the  rail  in 
any  such  fashion.  I  demand  twenty-four  hours  to  make 
good  on  my  scheme.  Twenty-four  hours — that's  all.  I 
know  how  those  men  got  that  gold.  I  got  mine  in  the 
same  way.  But  they  won't  get  any  more;  I  know  condi- 
tions down  there;  I've  been  all  through  it.  You  listen 
to  me,  I  say!  I'm  going  to  take  twenty-four  hours — and 
if  I've  got  to  keep  you  tied  up  while  I  operate,  then  it's 
tied  up  you  stay.  I'll  take  all  the  responsibility  of  this 
mutiny,  men,"  I  told  the  crowd  on  the  lighter.  "I'm  a 
partner  in  this  expedition  with  a  signed  contract.  Twenty- 
four  hours  from  now  I'll  hold  out  my  hands  and  let  you 
tie  me  up  if  I  haven't  made  good." 

That  was  pretty  bold  talk,  and  I'll  confess  that  I  did 
not  know  just  where  I  was  going  to  get  off.  But  to  let 
Captain  Holstrom  run  away  to  that  rogue  of  a  Keedy 
just  when  I  was  on  the  eve  of  my  experiment — to  allow 
Holstrom  to  hand  over  everything  to  that  he-devil — was 
too  intolerable. 

393 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"We'll  take  the  captain  back  to  the  steamer,"  I  told 
the  men.  "I'm  assuming  all  responsibility." 

"I'll  share  it  with  you,"  said  the  girl,  stoutly. 

Captain  Holstrom  seemed  to  have  lost  his  voice.  He 
stared  at  us  and  gasped  like  a  fish  newly  heaved  on  deck. 
He  was  silent  while  we  carried  him  to  his  state-room  on  the 
steamer.  We  left  him  tied  up  well  and  his  daughter  was 
his  caretaker  and  jailer  by  her  own  choice.  She  was 
showing  the  grit  of  a  young  catamount  in  that  emergency. 

All  of  it  was  about  as  bad  as  it  could  be.  But  it  was 
going  to  be  worse. 


XXXIII 

THE   HEART   OP   THE   MILLIONS 

T  WAS  about  at  daybreak  next  morning.  The  man  who 
1  predicted  the  first  eclipse  of  the  sun  and  was  waiting 
for  it  had  nothing  on  me  in  the  way  of  a  case  of  nerves. 
I  kept  away  from  the  captain's  state-room.  I  had  plenty 
on  my  mind  without  loading  up  with  any  more  trouble. 

The  first  thing  I  saw  when  I  came  on  deck  was  a  little 
schooner  which  was  lying-to  a  few  cable-lengths  from  us. 
She  looked  familiar.  A  boat  was  slid  over  her  rail. 
Through  the  telescope  I  saw  two  men  in  uniform  take 
seats  in  the  stern-sheets.  They  were  those  customs  chaps 
who  had  visited  us  before  and  they  rowed  past  us  toward 
Keedy's  schooner.  I  turned  the  telescope  and  saw  that 
somebody  in  Keedy's  crowd  was  wigwagging  a  flag  furi- 
ously. 

I  saw  something  else  through  the  glass.  Keedy's 
divers  were  going  down  and  I  could  imagine  with  what 
kind  of  tongue-lashing  he  had  been  urging  them  to  "follow 
their  hand." 

For  an  instant  I  had  a  wild  notion  of  calling  for  my  boat 
crew  and  beating  them  to  it.  Then  I  looked  out  over  that 
quieter  sea,  and  felt  sure  that  the  freakish  undertow  had 
gone  off  to  play  elsewhere. 

"Let  'em  go  down  and  learn  a  thing  or  two,"  I  said  to 
Romeo  Shank,  "and  then  come  up  and  tell  Keedy  that  the 
Pacific  Ocean  is  something  of  a  gambler  itself  when  it 
comes  to  'following  your  hand."' 

I  knew  well  enough  that  I'd  better  stick  around  pretty 
close  aboard  the  old  Zizania,  for  I  was  sure  we  would 

395 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

be  receiving  a  call  from  the  customs  men.  They  would 
find  our  treasury  bare,  and  they  would  find  the  captain 
of  the  expedition  trussed  up  in  his  state-room.  They 
would  probably  come  with  another  "hot  rock"  which  had 
been  dropped  in  their  hat  by  the  prospering  Keedy. 

Yes,  there  was  only  one  station  for  me  that  morning! 

The  visitors  arrived  in  less  than  an  hour.  They  tried 
to  smile  when  they  came  over  the  rail,  but  it  was  a  mighty 
sick  smile. 

I  led  them  into  my  state-room,  and  did  not  pay  any 
attention  to  their  questions  about  the  captain.  They 
talked  broken  English,  and  little  of  it,  and  so  there  were 
no  words  wasted.  In  a  few  minutes  I  knew  what  was 
wanted.  We  must  up  killick  and  get  out.  We  were  there 
without  authority;  we  were  breaking  laws;  we  were  steal- 
ing other  men's  property. 

I  tried  to  talk  about  Keedy  and  his  gang.  How  about 
them?  The  officers  shrugged  their  shoulders  and  scowled 
at  me.  Ah,  that  was  the  Government's  business,  not 
mine,  they  told  me.  They  were  attending  to  that  case. 
Had  I  not  seen  them  going  over  there  also?  Yes,  all 
should  be  used  alike — but  we  must  go  or  else  they  would 
report,  and  a  gunboat  would  be  sent  to  drive  us  away — 
yes,  to  confiscate  our  ship.  So! 

Captain  Holstrom  had  been  right  in  regard  to  them — I 
found  that  they  were  blood-suckers,  looking  for  the  juiciest 
proposition,  and  Keedy  had  got  next  by  some  plan — 
perhaps  by  being  a  better  liar. 

I  stared  at  those  knaves  for  a  few  moments,  and  did 
some  tall  thinking  quickly.  I  was  really  getting  used  to 
quick  thinking  by  that  time. 

When  I  jumped  up  and  asked  to  be  excused  for  a  mo- 
ment they  smiled  and  settled  back  on  the  transom. 
Perhaps  they  thought  that  I  proposed  to  raise  Keedy 
out  of  the  game. 

I  found  Mate  Number-two  Jones  on  the  main  deck 
forward. 

396 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"They  have  called  the  turn  on  us — say  that  we  must 
get  off  the  coast,"  I  told  him.  "Keedy  has  bribed  them 
over  our  heads.  I  tell  you,  Jones,  I'm  going  to  get  that 
treasure!  I've  got  to  get  it.  This  isn't  mere  brag  talk. 
You  are  posted  on  my  plans,  and  you  believe  in  them." 

"The  scheme  does  look  good  to  me,"  admitted  the 
mate. 

"If  those  men  leave  here  tied  up  to  Keedy  they'll  send 
a  gunboat  and  shoo  us  off — and  they've  told  Keedy,  of 
course,  how  to  dodge  her.  Jones,  those  men  have  got 
to  stay  aboard  the  Zizania  until  I  make  my  try  to-day. 
And,  by  the  gods!  I'll  bring  up  enough  to  show  'em  that 
we  are  the  people.  You  come  with  me!" 

"What  for?" 

"We've  got  to  lasso  those  chaps  and  hitch  'em  to  the 
stanchion  in  my  state-room.  They've  got  to  stay  here 
till  I  test  out  that  hose." 

"Look  here,"  objected  Mr.  Jones,  fumbling  at  his 
nose,  "seems  to  me  there's  altogether  too  much  tripping 
and  tying  aboard  here.  It  beats  a  round-up  of  steers. 
We're  going  to  get  into  a  lot  of  trouble — we're  in  it  now. 
You  wait  till  the  captain  gets  loose,  and  see  if  we  ain't!" 

"Tying  two  more  won't  make  it  any  worse  than  it  is. 
I  can't  make  you  do  what  you  don't  want  to  do,  Jones, 
but  I  believe  you're  too  much  of  a  man  to  let  me  play 
this  thing  single-handed.  We're  fighting  Keedy  now.  If 
I  fail  in  getting  at  that  gold  to-day,  all  we've  got  to  do 
is  to  up  mud-hook  and  steam  north — we'll  have  to  do  the 
same  thing  if  we  let  those  grafters  go  over  the  rail  now." 

Jones  was  a  cautious  man,  but  he  was  a  loyal  one.  I 
kept  on  urging,  and  at  last  the  battle-light  flickered  in  his 
pale-blue  eyes. 

"Blast  their  thievish  souls!"  he  said.  "They've  taken 
all  the  money  I  had  in  my  pockets — and  now  they're 
thumbing  their  noses  at  decent  men.  I'm  with  you!" 

We  grabbed  ropes,  rushed  up  to  my  state-room,  and  fell 
on  the  men  before  they  could  scramble  to  their  feet. 

397 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

They  were  wizened  little  chaps  and  we  tied  them  without 
any  trouble. 

Then  I  went  below  and  leaned  over  the  rail  where  their 
boat  was  tossing. 

"The  gentlemen  are  staying  here  for  some  business," 
I  told  the  two  rowers.  "They  tell  you  to  go  back  to  the 
schooner  and  wait  till  they  signal  for  you  with  our  ensign." 
They  didn't  look  entirely  satisfied,  but  they  rowed  away 
after  I  had  ordered  them  to  fend  off. 

I  stationed  two  men  at  my  state-room  door  and  I  hunted 
up  weapons  and  armed  some  of  the  crew.  I  ordered  them 
to  keep  off  everybody  until  I  returned  from  the  lighter. 

I  spoke  to  Captain  Holstrom  through  his  state-room 
window.  I  told  him  that  I  would  bring  him  a  present 
before  sundown.  He  did  not  reply — and  when  Captain 
Holstrom  was  mad  enough  to  keep  his  tongue  between  his 
teeth  I  felt  that  only  murder  could  express  his  feelings. 

The  door  was  on  the  hook,  and  a  little  brown  hand  was 
thrust  out  to  meet  mine. 

"Good  luck,  brave  boy!"  she  whispered.  "I  know 
you'll  do  it." 

"I  can't  fail  after  that  word  from  you,"  I  told  her. 

Then  I  ran  down  the  ladder  and  jumped  into  the  boat 
where  my  men  were  waiting  for  me. 

I  found  a  heavy  surge  running  under  our  lighter,  but  the 
swirl  of  sand  was  no  longer  darkening  the  water.  I  had 
reckoned  right  in  regard  to  that  undertow.  Keedy's 
men  were  still  down  and  I  could  imagine  them  wasting 
their  strength  on  the  sand  which  had  been  packed  back 
overnight. 

Our  water-hose  had  already  been  coupled  in  makeshift 
fashion,  and  the  last  work  that  morning  was  to  wrap  the 
joints  as  best  we  could.  Then  I  set  the  men  at  the 
brakes  and  told  them  to  "give  her  tar,"  as  the  old- 
fashioned  hand-tub  foreman  would  say.  The  hose  was 
strung  about  the  deck  of  the  lighter. 

After  they  pumped  for  five  minutes  I  found  that  the 

398 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

hose  was  not  so  tight  as  I  had  hoped.  Wheezing  little 
streams  punctured  it  here  and  there,  and  the  joints 
leaked.  From  the  end  of  our  home-made  nozzle  of  sheet 
iron  the  stream  barely  trickled.  I  was  disgusted — but  I 
was  not  wholly  discouraged.  When  I  state  this  you  may 
see  how  desperate  I  had  become.  I  was  resolved  to  fight 
that  thing  through  to  the  last  ditch.  I  was  determined 
to  take  that  hose  down  and  try  it  out.  I  had  the  misty 
and  hopeful  notion  that  the  pressure  of  the  sea  on  it 
might  make  some  difference,  that  the  wet  hose  might  re- 
tain the  water  better,  that  after  the  plunger  had  swelled 
a  bit  we  might  get  more  force. 

All  those  straws  and  others  did  I  grab  at  by  way  of 
bracing  my  courage. 

The  captain  of  the  expedition  trussed  up  in  his  cabin 
like  a  steer  calf — only  waiting  his  opportunity  to  deal 
with  me! 

Two  customs  men  also  trussed  up — also  waiting  to 
deal  with  me! 

It  can  be  readily  understood  that  there  were  some  de- 
cidedly red-hot  goads  at  my  back  that  day  to  drive  me 
down  under  the  sea. 

I  had  not  been  able  to  convince  Captain  Holstrom  that 
all  my  work  and  struggles  and  investigation  and  failures 
up  to  then  were  a  good  investment.  But  as  a  submarine 
diver  I  knew  that  they  had  been.  I  had  been  spending 
my  nights  on  a  sleepless  pillow,  docketing  those  experi- 
ences and  drawing  lessons  from  them — plotting,  ponder- 
ing, and  planning. 

When  I  went  down  I  was  ready  for  my  job  in  so  far 
as  a  man,  by  pounding  his  brain,  can  be  ready  for  all 
emergencies. 

I  had  piled  the  lead  on  to  myself.  Around  my  body 
from  hips  to  armpits  I  had  a  canvas  belt  with  five  pockets, 
each  pocket  holding  twenty-five  pounds  of  shot,  part  of 
the  junk  of  the  old  Zizania.  Around  each  leg  above  the 
ankle  I  fastened  another  bag  of  shot  holding  fifteen  pounds. 

399 


WHERE    YOUR    TREASURE    IS 

My  helmet  had  weights  weighing  thirty  pounds.  In  addi- 
tion I  wore  my  regular  breast  and  back  weights.  That  is 
to  say,  when  I  was  rolled  over  the  side  of  that  lighter  I, 
a  one-hundred-and-eighty-pound  man,  was  weighted  with 
about  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  of  metal. 

I  went  with  bare  feet  and  bare  hands.  I  knew  that  if  I 
ever  did  succeed  in  boring  that  sand,  holding  that  hose 
in  my  hands,  my  feet  would  have  to  serve  as  hands  for 
the  purpose  of  feeling  out  objects. 

Keedy's  men  had  come  up  before  I  gave  the  word  to 
lower  -me.  Number-two  Jones  had  peered  through  the 
cracks  of  the  boarding,  and  had  reported  that  they  had 
come  over  the  rail  without  bringing  treasure,  and  that 
Keedy  was  stamping  up  and  down  the  deck,  wagging  his 
fists  over  his  head.  I  could  imagine  from  my  own  experi- 
ence what  kind  of  language  the  cowardly  slave-driver  was 
spewing  out. 

I  found  myself  on  the  bottom  under  the  lighter,  and 
started  to  make  my  way  toward  the  wreck.  I  was 
loaded  like  a  pack-donkey,  outside  of  the  tremendous 
extra  weight  of  lead  I  carried.  But  I  was  taking  every- 
thing which  my  judgment  counseled  as  needful  for  success. 

I  was  obliged  to  drag  with  me  my  life-line,  my  air-hose, 
and  the  heavy  canvas  hose  for  the  water.  In  addition  to 
those,  I  towed  a  double  line  which  was  hitched  to  a  pair  of 
ice-tongs,  and  the  points  of  those  tongs  were  filed  to  a 
sharp  point.  I  carried  the  tongs  at  my  belt.  If  I  found 
treasure  I  had  this  method  of  sending  it  to  tt  e  lighter  and 
of  dragging  back  the  tongs  to  myself.  I  had  had  one 
experience  in  serving  as  a  carrier  and  I  did  not  want  to 
repeat  the  job. 

I  tell  you,  I  felt  like  a  mighty  poor  and  puny  little  ant 
when  I  started  away  on  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  climbing 
those  sand  ridges.  The  sea  clutched  and  tore  at  those 
wriggling  lines,  at  my  air-hose,  and  was  especially  fero- 
cious in  tackling  that  heavy  water-hose.  It  seemed  as  if 
the  Pacific  resented  that  scheme  of  fighting  it. 

400 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

It  was  a  mighty  struggle  I  had.  I  was  tossed  and 
tumbled.  I  was  banged  and  buffeted. 

But  in  the  end  I  arrived  at  the  wreck.  Under  ordinary 
circumstances  that  stunt  alone  would  have  finished  a 
diver's  work  for  a  day — but  I  had  left  matters  above  the 
surface  in  such  condition  that  I  could  not  face  them  just 
then. 

I  dropped  my  water-hose,  and  went  back  fifty  feet  along 
the  line.  Past  experience  with  the  weight  of  the  surges 
had  suggested  another  trick  with  which  to  fight  the  giant 
Pacific.  I  had  brought  a  small  anchor,  and,  with  this  set 
into  the  sand  as  best  I  could  do  it,  I  anchored  my  air- 
hose  and  water-hose  about  fifty  feet  from  the  wreck.  I 
proposed  to  let  the  ocean  wreak  the  most  of  its  spite  on  the 
two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  between  that  anchor  and  the 
lighter.  I  figured  that  I  might  be  able  to  handle  the  other 
fifty  feet,  no  matter  how  ugly  the  surges  were. 

I  crawled  back  to  the  wreck  and  found  my  bearings. 
There  were  the  "cat  scratchings"  on  the  sand  where  the 
other  divers  had  spent  their  energy  that  morning.  I 
grinned — I  couldn't  help  it.  They  had  just  had  their  own 
experience  with  the  tricks  of  a  Pacific  undertow. 

Well,  the  great  and  awful  moment  had  come  for  me! 

In  the  years  that  have  passed  since  then  the  vivid  mem- 
ory of  that  moment  has  never  left  me.  I  wake  up  in  the 
night  even  now,  and  the  thrill  of  it  shakes  me. 

If  my  scheme  did  not  work,  what  would  become  of  me 
when  I  went  back  to  the  surface  of  the  sea  ? 

If  my  scheme  did  work,  what  was  I  facing  down  there  ? 
I  was  proposing  to  bore  into  that  sand — to  sink  into  it. 
No  such  plan  had  ever  been  tried  by  a  human  being  up  to 
that  time. *  Was  I  not  digging  my  own  grave? 

1  Although  sticking  a  statement  of  fact  into  writing  which  is 
professedly  fiction  may  be  considered  supererogation  by  the  cynical 
critic,  some  honest  reader  may  be  grateful  for  a  certain  bit  of  in- 
formation. Here  it  is:  My  old  and  valued  friend,  the  diver  who 
recovered  the  Golden  Gate  treasure,  still  lives  at  a  ripe  age  and  he  has 

401 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  sat  down  on  the  sand,  Turk  fashion,  like  a  tailor  on  his 
table,  pointed  the  nozzle  down,  holding  it  against  the 
sand,  and  gave  the  agreed-upon  signal  for  water.  It  took 
a  long  time  in  coming,  and  it  was  an  agony  of  waiting. 
Then  at  last  I  felt  the  hose  swell  under  my  arm.  I 
pressed  the  nozzle  harder  against  the  sand.  I  cannot 
describe  my  delight.  I  felt  that  my  dreams  were  coming 
true,  for  when  I  jammed  the  nozzle  down  I  found  that  the 
sand  was  moving.  That  stream  had  merely  trickled  above 
the  surface,  but  now  a  pressure  was  created  when  I  held 
the  nozzle  hard  against  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  Yes,  the 
sand  moved  under  me.  It  began  to  boil  up  around  me. 
It  swept  and  swirled  in  yellow  clouds.  I  realized  that  I 
was  boring  a  hole  about  as  big  as  a  barrel,  and  into  that 
hole  I  was  gradually  sinking.  I  was  on  my  way!  I  did 
not  know  where  I  was  going — but,  bless  the  good  Lord, 
I  was  on  my  way !  The  sand  in  that  boiling  water  made 
all  dark.  Down  and  down  I  went  slowly,  my  bare  feet 
searching  eagerly. 

But  though  I  descended  more  rapidly  as  the  swirling 
motion  increased,  I  felt  no  boxes.  Had  I,  then,  happened 
upon  a  straggler  among  the  boxes  of  gold  on  my  earlier 
trip  ?  Had  my  rivals  also  found  two  more  stragglers  from 
the  main  treasure — loosened  boxes  which  had  been  forced 
out  of  the  chamber  by  the  impact  of  the  wreck  on  the 
bar  or  had  worked  near  the  surface  of  the  sand  by  the 
action  of  a  sucking  undertow?  If  that  were  true,  it 
meant  that  Keedy's  men  were  dumped  if  they  stuck  to 
shovels.  Provided  I  could  reach  the  treasure,  and  could 
keep  my  own  system  a  secret,  I  was  headed  toward  a 
glorious  victory,  and  could  depend  upon  the  ocean  to 

detailed  to  me  how  he  devised  the  hydraulic  apparatus  out  of  make- 
shift material,  how  he  bored  into  the  sand,  and  how  he,  with  his 
own  hands,  recovered  the  bullion.  Also,  the  incident  of  his  narrow 
escape  when  the  water-hose  shifted  was  a  part  of  his  bitter  experience 
on  the  bed  of  the  Pacific.  I  hasten  to  state  that,  so  far  as  the  rest  of 
the  yarn  goes,  my  good  friend,  Diver  Cook,  is  not  culpable. — H.  D. 

402 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

keep  off  others — but  was  I  headed  toward  victory?  My 
feet  touched  nothing  that  had  square  corners.  And  yet, 
to  the  best  of  my  judgment,  I  had  already  gone  down  at 
least  ten  feet  in  that  hole  in  the  sand. 

Down  and  down — five  feet  more,  so  I  reckoned.  Then 
my  heart  gave  a  jump.  My  feet  had  touched  something. 
It  was  smooth  and  hard  and  flat,  and  spread  under  me 
horizontally.  But  I  soon  discovered  that  it  had  too  large 
a  surface  to  be  a  box  of  ingots.  I  could  not  bend  over  to 
feel  it  with  my  hands,  for  the  rush  of  the  whirlpool  of  sand 
and  water  about  me,  sweeping  upward,  would  not  allow 
me  to  force  my  helmet  and  the  upper  part  of  my  body 
down.  I  must  depend  on  my  bare  feet  to  tell  me  what  I 
had  struck. 

After  a  time  I  knew.  It  was  boiler  plate.  I  could  feel 
the  round  heads  of  bolts.  Whether  this  plate  formed  a 
part  of  the  treasure-chamber  or  not  I  did  not  know.  But 
it  was  an  obstacle  which  must  be  passed.  I  turned  my 
nozzle  in  front  of  me  to  clear  the  way.  I  wanted  to  reach 
the  end  of  that  iron  plate. 

In  two  ticks  of  an  eight-day  clock  I  was  in  a  mess  that 
has  been  my  nightmare  ever  since.  I  began  to  get  a 
thorough  education  in  what  sand  will  do  under  water 
when  it  is  submitted  to  the  force  of  a  stream  from  a  hose. 
The  instant  I  turned  that  nozzle  in  front  of  me  the  sand 
rushed  in  from  behind.  I  was  grabbed  as  tightly  as  though 
the  eight  feelers  of  a  devil-fish  had  encircled  me. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  this  whole  proposition  was 
an  experiment  so  far  as  I  was  concerned.  I  did  not  know 
then  how  quickly  a  stream  of  water  can  affect  great  quan- 
tities of  sand  under  the  sea,  let  that  sand  get  in  motion. 
Tons  can  be  moved  almost  while  one  takes  a  breath. 

This  shift  was  so  sudden  that  I  was  not  prepared  for  it. 
My  legs  were  pinioned,  and  my  arms  seemed  to  be  clutched 
at  the  elbows.  The  sand  was  packing  in  around  me  from 
behind.  I  was  so  scared  that  my  hands  loosened  on  the 
nozzle.  A  roller  snatched  the  hose  from  my  grasp. 

403 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

The  nozzle  was  upended  and  began  to  sizzle  away  over 
my  head.  It  kept  the  sand  moving  there,  and  the  murky 
water  still  swirled  about  my  helmet,  and  the  pack  was  not 
allowed  to  settle  on  my  head.  But  as  to  the  rest  of  my 
body,  it  was  as  if  I  had  been  immersed  in  molten  metal 
and  it  had  cooled  around  me.  In  a  few  seconds  I  was  im- 
movable. I  was  buried  completely  in  sand,  except  for 
my  wrists  and  hands.  In  clutching  for  the  hose,  as  it  had 
been  yanked  away,  I  had  raised  my  hands  above  my 
head,  and  they  were  now  waving  in  the  swirl  of  the  whirl- 
pool. I  groped  and  stretched  and  strove,  and  at  last  I 
felt  the  tips  of  my  fingers  on  the  nozzle.  I  managed,  after 
a  while,  to  tilt  it  down  a  bit  so  that  the  stream  played 
along  my  arms  to  the  elbows.  The  temporary  release  of 
my  forearms  did  not  help  me.  I  couldn't  get  hold  of  that 
hose  so  as  to  turn  the  nozzle  full  upon  myself.  The  sand 
kept  packing  more  closely  about  my  legs  and  body. 

After  a  time  my  aching  hands  and  arms  were  obliged 
to  give  up  the  fight.  I  had  become  so  weakened  by  my 
struggles  and  strainings  that  I  was  faint — I  was  as  feeble 
as  a  baby. 

I  have  read  about  men  in  awful  peril  who  have  resigned 
themselves  to  die.  Mentally  I  was  not  resigned  when  I 
first  gave  up  struggling — not  for  some  time.  I  came  out 
of  that  first  faintness,  wide  awake  to  my  danger,  filled 
with  frightful  fear,  mad  with  the  longing  to  live.  But  my 
case  seemed  hopeless.  The  stream  was  keeping  the  sand 
in  motion  still  about  my  helmet  and  over  my  head,  but  my 
hands  informed  me  that  the  pack  was  gradually  settling, 
that  the  sand  was  piling  up  around  my  neck  slowly  but 
surely.  In  the  boil  of  that  water  the  particles  were  drifting 
over  me. 

I  might  live  minutes,  I  reflected — I  might  linger  there 
for  an  hour  or  more — feeling  that  sand  pack  around  my 
head  until  it  choked  the  valve  of  the  helmet  or  pinched 
off  the  current  in  the  air-hose. 

Never  was  I  so  hungry  for  life  as  when  I  stood  there 

404 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

pinioned  hand  and  foot  in  the  Pacific's  bed,  feeling  the 
sand  piling  up  against  the  glass  of  my  helmet,  sifting 
around  me  to  chink  the  little  cranny  where  the  air 
bubbled  from  the  valve.  And  all  because  a  stream  of 
water  would  not  swerve  ten  inches  and  pour  itself  in 
my  direction. 

Then  something  surprising  happened  to  my  soul  in  its 
agony.  I'm  telling  the  truth. 

When  I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  effort  was  useless, 
that  I  had  done  all  that  I  could  do,  and  that  death  was 
certain,  a  strange  feeling  came  to  me  and  took  away  my 
fear  of  death.  I  fell  into  a  quiet  and  really  exalted  frame 
of  mind.  I  floated  in  dreams.  Cares  of  earth  and  worries 
of  the  world,  lust  for  gold,  and  even  the  love  of  woman 
seemed  very  small  matters.  What  did  it  all  matter?  I 
was  dying.  Peace  came  to  me. 

Is  it  not  probable  that  kind  nature  or  a  kinder  God 
thus  smooths  the  way  into  eternity  when  the  great  mo- 
ment comes?  Men  who  have  been  nigh  the  last  gasp  have 
swapped  stories  with  me  and  we  all  agree. 

I  had  no  notion  of  the  length  of  time  I  had  been  down. 
In  my  mistiness  of  mind  I  did  not  bother  about  time.  In 
the  case  of  a  submarine  diver,  the  hours  are  marked  off 
by  his  sensations,  and  he  knows  when  he  has  stayed  down 
long  enough.  If  my  men  had  told  me  that  I  had  been  on 
the  bed  of  the  ocean  for  a  day  and  a  night  I  should  not 
have  disputed  them.  I  must  have  been  near  death,  for 
it  is  said  that  when  one  is  dying  all  of  life  that  has  been 
lived  comes  before  the  mind  and  passes  in  review,  as 
though  the  mortal  soul  were  preparing  its  brief  for  the 
use  of  the  recording  angel.  I  remember  that  this  last  was 
a  strange  idea  which  came  to  me  there  in  the  sand-pack 
which  was  slowly  heaping  itself  over  my  head. 

Then  something  happened.  It  was  something  which 
should  have  amazed  me,  but  I  reckon  that  my  brain  was 
too  numbed  to  feel  amazement. 

The  nozzle  above  my  head  gave  a  sudden  yank  aad 

405 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

rapped  my  knuckles.  It  righted  itself.  That  is  to  say, 
it  aimed  downward  and  began  to  pour  water  directly  at 
and  over  me.  I  felt  the  stream  rather  than  saw  it.  I 
could  not  see  in  that  smother  of  sand.  But  my  arms 
came  out  of  the  mold  in  which  they  had  been  pinned.  I 
grabbed  and  groped  for  that  hose  with  all  the  desperation 
that  was  in  me.  I  held  to  it  with  all  my  strength.  It  was 
lucky  that  I  seized  it  as  I  did,  for  I  felt  the  rollers  tugging 
at  it  once  more  as  though  some  devil  of  the  sea  had  given 
me  one  more  chance  in  order  to  tantalize  me,  and  was  now 
resolved  to  finish  me  finally. 

I  did  not  know  what  had  happened  above  to  cause  the 
sudden  deflection  of  the  stream.  It  was  enough  for  me 
to  know  that  some  freak  of  the  waters  had  turned  the 
hose.  I  found  out  later  what  had  occurred,  and  I  may 
as  well  explain  at  this  point,  lest  you  think  I  have  told 
merely  of  a  case  of  story-book  Providence. 

I  have  related  how  I  anchored  my  lines  fifty  feet  from 
the  wreck.  That  anchor,  so  I  found  later,  had  been  pulled 
out  of  the  sand,  and  the  surges  had  bellied  the  water-hose 
in  toward  shore,  over  my  head,  and  the  aim  of  the  nozzle 
had  been  changed  in  the  snap  of  a  finger.  It  surely  had 
been  touch  and  go  with  me,  for  once  the  surge  had  taken 
up  the  slack  the  next  wave  must  have  jerked  the  hose  out 
of  my  hole.  I  had  grabbed  just  in  time;  I  had  melted  my 
sand  mold  and  was  free. 

Common  sense  advised  me  to  quit  the  job  forever. 
The  uncertainties  of  trying  to  move  sand  with  a  stream 
of  water  had  been  impressed  upon  me  in  horrible  fashion. 
But  common  sense  is  not  allowed  to  rule  a  man  when  he 
is  after  gold  in  this  world.  I  had  found  out  what  that 
stream  would  accomplish  if  it  was  used  properly.  I  had 
learned  one  lesson  which  I  could  not  forget,  and  I  was 
sure  I  would  not  make  the  mistake  of  letting  the  sand 
catch  me  from  behind  again.  I  knew,  on  the  other  hand, 
what  would  happen  to  me  when  I  appeared  above  the 
surface  without  my  ransom  fee  of  yellow  gold.  I  preferred 

406 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

to  stay  and  fight  sand  instead  of  men.  There,  in  the  boil' 
of  the  roiled  water,  I  resolved  to  stay  down. 

I  tried  another  experiment  with  the  hose,  and  was- 
vastly  encouraged.  I  had  been  worrying  and  wondering 
how  I  would  get  back  out  of  the  hole,  for  I  feared  that  the 
life-line,  playing  over  the  edge  of  the  sand,  would  not 
allow  the  men  on  the  lighter  enough  direct  pull  to  help 
me  much.  Now  I  needed  to  rise  from  the  hole  for  a  little 
way  in  order  to  attack  the  sand  at  another-  angle  so  as  to 
pass  that  plate  of  boiler  iron. 

I  slackened  the  force  of  the  stream  from  the  nozzle 
with  my  palm,  and  the  sand  began  to  pack  in  below  me. 
The  uprush  of  the  swirling  water  helped  me>  and  I  was 
able  to  work  myself  slowly  upward.  Then  I  began  to 
bore  again. 

I  realized  now  that  something  must  have  happened  to, 
my  anchor,  because  the  rollers  were  giving  me  battle  for 
the  possession  of  that  water-hose  in  fierce  style.  But  I 
hung  on,  and  found  myself  sinking  into  the  sand.  I  went 
down  more  rapidly,  for  I  had  already  softened  the  sur- 
rounding pack.  After  the  awful  experience  I  had  just 
had,  I  was  more  of  a  lunatic  than  sane  while  I  made  that 
second  attempt.  My  brain  swirled  as  dizzily  as  the  water 
which  swept  up  from  the  hole.  As  nearly  as  I  could  esti- 
mate, I  went  down  at  least  five  yards  before  I  struck  any- 
thing that  was  solid.  And  when  my  feet,  already  sore 
from  the  grinding  of  that  sand,  felt  what  was  below  them, 
the  whole  of  my  being  gave  three  cheers — not  cheers  with 
the  mouth,  but  those  silent  cheers  with  which  a  man's 
soul  yells  its  joy.  I  had  touched  a  box.  There  were  its 
corners — there  was  its  unmistakable  shape. 

After  wild  struggles  and  contortions,  I  was  able  to  set 
the  points  of  the  ice-tongs  into  its  sides.  I  gave  the  signal 
on  the  drag-rope,  and  I  could  feel  the  surge  of  the  men  on 
the  line.  But  the  angle  of  the  rope  over  the  edge  of  the 
hole  would  not  allow  them  to  lift  very  hard.  The  box 
was  too  far  away  from  the  lighter  for  their  efforts  to 
27  407 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

amount  to  much.  But  as  they  swayed  away  I  kept  the 
hose  playing  upon  the  box  and  under  it.  It  did  seem 
damnably  slow  work.  But  it  came  up,  inch  by  inch,  slowly 
and  surely,  until  I  was  out  of  the  hole,  and  standing  about 
knee-deep  in  the  sand.  I  had  a  tug  of  war  of  it  then! 

The  box  was  not  out  of  the  hole.  The  rollers  tugged 
at  my  lines  and  wrenched  at  me.  Once  or  twice  I  was 
fairly  floored.  I  would  fall  with  my  legs  pinioned  fast, 
and  would  lie  exhausted  until  I  could  get  strength  to 
stand  up  and  wash  myself  free  with  the  hose.  In  order 
to  get  back  out  of  that  hole  at  all,  I  was  obliged  to  slacken 
the  stream  and  let  the  sand  pack  in  under  myself  and  the 
box — and  when  the  stream  slackened  I  was  obliged  to 
drag  my  legs  out  of  the  packing  sand. 

But  I  was  free  at  last,  bless  the  good  Lord!  And  I  had 
a  box  of  gold.  It  was  not  a  mere  stray  box,  salvaged  with 
the  help  of  a  freakish  undertow.  It  was  a  box  which  I 
had  torn  from  the  heart  of  the  hoard  below.  Yes,  I  was 
sure  that  I  had  been  to  the  heart  of  the  treasure.  And 
where  I  had  been  the  Pacific  was  already  stuffing  back 
the  sand,  locking  the  door  once  more  on  the  gold  it  had 
taken  for  its  own.  Let  Keedy's  men  come  down! 
Let  them  waste  their  strength.  I  had  the  key  to  that 
situation — and  I  alone. 

I  tugged  a  signal  to  shut  off  the  water.  And  as  promptly 
I  gave  them  pull-up  signals  on  my  life-line  and  on  the 
drag-cord  of  the  tongs.  I  wanted  to  get  above  the  sea 
and  breathe  the  fresh  air  of  the  good  God,  and  look  into 
the  eye  of  the  blessed  sun,  and  give  praises.  And,  oh,  the 
awful  weariness  in  every  bone  and  muscle  of  me!  I  lay 
down  and  let  'em  pull  me  back.  I  had  no  strength  with 
which  to  manage  that  weight  of  metal  which  loaded  me 
down. 

When  they  got  me  upon  the  deck  of  the  lighter,  and 
had  twisted  off  my  helmet,  I  lay  for  a  long  time  without 
words.  I  motioned  to  Number-two  Jones  to  remove  the 
cover  from  the  box  I  had  brought.  The  sight  of  those 

408 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

ingots  gave  me  the  goad  once  more — ah,  it  takes  gold  to 
make  the  human  soul  gallop! 

"Gold,  gold,  yellow  gold, 
Hard  to  get  and  harder  to  hold." 

This  quotation  burst  from  Mr.  Shank.  His  round  face 
was  radiant,  and  he  came  and  leaned  over  me  and  patted 
me  on  the  head.  He  did  not  seem  to  have  any  better  way 
of  showing  his  joy.  It  was  a  wildly  excited  crew  which 
crowded  around  me;  they  were  still  more  excited  when  I 
sat  up  on  deck  at  last  and  told  them  I  was  going  down 
again.  The  fever  was  in  me.  I  wanted  to  go  back  to  the 
Zizania  with  gold  enough  to  convince  Captain  Holstrom 
and  those  knaves  of  customs  men  that  there  was  no  fluke 
about  our  proposition.  I  wanted  to  raise  that  infernal 
Keedy  out  of  this  game  for  good  and  all. 

It  was  mighty  tempestuous  water  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
wreck,  and  putting  the  lighter  nearer  was  not  to  be 
thought  of.  But  I  discussed  with  Mate  Jones  the  possi- 
bility of  dropping  our  yawl  back  toward  the  wreck  at  the 
end  of  a  cable,  so  that  the  men  could  lift  the  treasure- 
boxes  more  directly.  We  had  brought  extra  men  that 
morning  for  the  pump,  and  a  crew  for  the  surf -boat 
volunteered.  The  gold  lust  was  seizing  the  whole  of  us. 
I  went  down  again,  feeling  sure  that  the  wicked  labor  of 
getting  the  box  up  through  the  sand  would  be  lightened 
for  me. 

I  took  another  anchor,  and  on  my  way  to  the  wreck  I 
refastened  my  hose  lines  to  the  bottom,  rigging  the  second 
anchor  as  a  bridle,  so  that  the  strain  would  be  eased  on 
the  one  which  I  had  set  into  the  sand. 

Down  I  bored  again,  my  tongs  at  my.  belt,  my  hose  in 
my  clutch.  And  I  stayed  down  until  I  had  sent  three 
more  boxes  up  to  the  surf-boat.  While  I  was  toiling  down 
there  I  knew  that  I  was  setting  a  dangerous  record  for 
myself — I  could  not  hope  to  equal  it  on  the  days  which 
were  to  follow.  It  was  plain  that  I  had  penetrated  to  the 

409 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

heart  of  the  treasure,  but  I  had  penetrated  to  other  things 
as  well.  I  found  all  the  sculch  and  broken  crockery  of 
the  wrecked  pantry  and  the  bar  of  the  Golden  Gate.  Yes, 
I  sent  three  more  boxes  to  the  lighter;  but  when  I  crawled 
over  the  rail  later  my  hands  and  feet  were  bleeding,  and 
the  sand  had  ground  into  the  wounds.  Already  my  skin 
showed  where  the  grinding  of  the  boiling  sand  was  wearing 
the  epidermis.  Even  the  rubber  of  my  suit  was  showing 
wear. 

I  was  a  sorry-looking  object  when  I  staggered  into 
Capt.  Rask  Holstrom's  state-room.  He  fairly  slavered 
in  his  rage  and  tried  to  leap  at  me.  I  reckon  I  did  look 
like  a  beaten  man.  But  the  next  instant  my  men  came 
tramping  in  with  the  boxes  of  gold.  There  were  four  of 
these  glorious  boxes,  and  each  one  was  open  and  showed 
the  ingots. 

"Your  friend  Keedy  got  his  two  boxes  by  the  fluke  of 
an  undertow,"  I  told  him.  "I  have  got  mine  by  science 
and  a  system  which  will  give  us  the  rest  of  it.  Now, 
Captain  Holstrom,  I'll  accept  your  apologies."  And  I 
cut  him  loose. 

I  did  not  mention  any  apologies  due  from  me  to  him. 
I  wanted  to  rub  it  into  the  old  squarehead  so  thoroughly 
that  he  would  never  get  the  smart  of  it  out  of  his  skin.  I 
wanted  to  let  him  know  that  I  had  set  a  ring  into  his  nose, 
and  that  if  he  ever  tried  to  run  amuck  again  I  was  the 
man  who  could  catch  him  and  trip  him. 

He  gave  me  one  look,  gasped  one  gasp,  and  I  knew  that 
Capt.  Rask  Holstrom  had  abdicated  his  throne.  I  was 
boss.  But  I  had  no  time  to  listen  to  his  slobbering  thanks 
just  then.  I  took  one  of  those  bars  of  gold  in  my  bloody 
hand  and  started  for  my  state-room.  I  shook  the  ingot 
under  the  noses  of  those  customs  men.  And  they,  too, 
knew  that  I  was  boss  when  I  got  through  with  them.  I 
had  not  come  back  that  day  from  hell  and  the  bottom  of 
the  sea  to  mince  words  with  any  loafers — Captain  Hol- 
strom included. 

410 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"Here's  gold  worth  four  thousand  dollars  in  good 
Yankee  money,  you  low-down  renegades.  You  take  it 
and  get  off  this  steamer.  If  you  are  good,  and  come 
around  here  like  gentlemen  about  a  month  from  now, 
perhaps  I'll  drop  another  rock  into  your  hat.  I  don't 
promise — it  all  depends  on  how  you  act.  But  if  you  come 
back  too  quick — if  you  try  to  squeeze  us  for  more  rake- 
off — I'll  go  down  to  headquarters  and  buy  your  blessed 
Government,  and  have  you  put  into  prison  or  shot — for 
before  this  thing  is  ended  here  I'll  have  more  than  three 
million  dollars  behind  me.  Now  you  can  either  make  a 
dollar  quietly  or  you  can  make  trouble.  Suit  yourselves." 

I  cut  their  ropes  and  pushed  them  out  of  the  room  and 
ordered  our  ensign  set  to  signal  their  boat. 

I  didn't  have  to  offer  them  any  apologies,  either,  and  I 
was  not  in  an  apologizing  mood  that  day.  They  did  the 
apologizing  while  they  were  waiting  for  their  boat,  and  I 
scowled  while  they  were  begging  me  to  forgive  the  mistake 
they  had  made. 

Yes,  I  felt  pretty  much  like  the  boss  of  the  outfit.  But 
when  Kama  Holstrom  came  with  hot  water  and  a  basin 
and  bandages  and  ordered  me  into  my  state-room,  I  went 
as  meekly  as  a  slave  who  trembles  when  the  finger  of  his 
master  is  pointed. 


XXXIV 

AMONG  THIEVES 

I  DID  not  go  down  next  day,  and  I  watched  the  descent 
of  Keedy's  divers  with  indifference  that  was  pretty 
nigh  serene.  Captain  Holstrom  stamped  around  rest- 
lessly, for  he  couldn't  seem  to  get  it  into  his  mind  that 
the  Pacific  Ocean  was  on  guard.  But  he  did  not  venture 
to  make  any  suggestions  to  me,  and  I  decided  that  I  had 
trained  him  in  pretty  fair  shape. 

I  had  good  reason  for  delaying  my  next  descent.  It 
would  not  do  to  take  chances  with  my  diving-dress,  which 
was  showing  signs  of  being  frayed  by  the  swirling  sand, 
and  I  put  in  a  busy  day  with  the  two  Joneses,  stitching 
an  extra  canvas  suit  to  wear  over  the  rubber  dress.  I 
improved  on  the  ice-tongs  by  having  a  set  of  steel  spring 
hooks  made  so  that  by  means  of  long  handles  I  could 
push  them  over  a  box  without  stooping  and  fumbling. 
Also  I  had  a  long  rod  of  steel  turned  out  for  me,  and  with 
this  I  could  probe  the  sand  for  boxes. 

I  had  no  way  of  knowing  whether  Keedy  or  his  divers 
suspected  that  I  had  secured  any  treasure.  I  knew  that 
after  a  night  of  action  of  the  sea  there  would  be  few 
traces  left  where  I  had  disturbed  the  sand.  But  I  also 
knew  that  Keedy  would  certainly  be  wondering  why  we 
had  built  the  wall  around  the  lighter,  and  therefore  we 
doubled  the  guards  who  had  spent  the  night  there  since 
we  had  installed  the  pump,  and  gave  the  men  orders  to 
shoot  any  man  who  tried  to  climb  on  board. 

We  started  work  on  a  bigger  and  more  elaborate 
pump,  having  tested  out  the  principle  of  the  thing  by 

412 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

means  of  the  first  one.  I  needed  more  stream.  While 
Shank  was  building  this  I  went  to  work  again,  using  the 
old  equipment. 

I  waited  each  day  until  the  other  divers  had  been  down 
and  had  climbed  back  into  the  sunlight,  empty-handed. 
Then  I  slid  overboard  from  our  lighter  as  secretly  as 
possible,  and  did  my  day's  work.  I  averaged  three  boxes 
a  trip  by  working  myself  to  the  limit  of  my  endurance. 
It  was  reported  to  me  that  Keedy  climbed  into  the  rigging 
of  the  schooner  whenever  the  surf-boat  was  eased  back 
toward  the  wreck,  and  that  he  remained  there  on  watch. 
How  much  he  saw  we  did  not  know,  but  the  men  in  the 
boat  crowded  together  whenever  a  box  was  raised.  From 
what  I  learned  afterward,  I  found  that  Keedy  thought 
we  were  operating  some  kind  of  a  dredge,  and  that  his 
divers  reported  to  him  that  we  were  not  making  any  im- 
pression on  the  sand.  So  he  sat  calmly  in  the  rigging, 
spying  on  what  he  could  see,  and  reckoning  that  we  were 
wasting  our  time  the  same  as  his  crew. 

Before  the  end  of  a  week  the  new  pump  was  finished 
and  I  had  almost  five  hundred  gallons  a  minute  at  my 
command. 

I  do  not  mean  to  be  profane,  but  I  must  state  that  when 
I  got  that  new  stream  to  operating  it  was  hell  for  me  down 
below — and  no  other  phrase  seems  to  express  the  case. 

I  have  already  mentioned  the  refuse  of  that  wrecked 
pantry  and  bar;  from  out  of  the  holes  I  bored  rushed  up 
bits  of  broken  bottles  and  crockery,  slashing  at  my  bare 
feet  and  hands.  I  could  not  protect  them. 

The  stream  from  the  nozzle — a  three-inch  stream — stirred 
such  a  mush  of  sand  that  I  worked  in  pitch  darkness.  I 
had  to  have  bare  feet  and  hands  in  order  to  feel  my  way. 

After  a  time,  my  feet  were  swollen  to  twice  their  natural 
size.  Finger-nails  and  toe-nails  had  been  worn  off  by  the 
grinding  of  the  sand,  and  the  skin  had  been  eaten  off. 
The  sand  even  penetrated  my  dress,  and  my  knees  and 
shoulders  were  chafed  raw.  My  back,  under  the  dragging 


WHERE    YOUR    TREASURE    IS 

Weights  I  was  forced  to  wear,  was  about  like  a  piece  of 
pounded  steak.  I  was  suffering  the  limit  of  human  agony, 
but  I  was  mad  for  success — I  was  crazed  by  the  gold 
lust.  I  was  bringing  out  a  small  fortune  every  day;  one 
day  I  recovered  six  boxes — one  hundred  and  twenty 
thousand  dollars!  But  I  was  still  just  as  hungry  for  the 
gold  that  remained  at  the  bottom.  I  set  my  teeth,  gasped 
back  my  groans,  and  kept  at  work. 

All  the  tender  ministrations  of  Kama  Holstrom  could 
not  mend  my  hurts,  and  I  would  not  listen  to  her  appeals 
to  me.  She  begged  me  to  give  up  the  fight.  She  urged 
that  we  had  enough.  But  I  was  as  crazy  as  the  wildest 
man  who  ever  hunted  gold,  and  the  pain  I  was  in  made 
me  more  of  a  lunatic.  On  several  occasions  I  was  pulled 
back  to  the  lighter  in  a  dead  faint,  and  fought  with 
Number-two  Jones  because  he  would  not  send  me  down 
again  that  day. 

I  cannot  go  into  the  details  of  those  days  of  nightmare. 
I  can  only  say  that  I  kept  on. 

We  soon  had  plain  hints  that  Keedy  was  getting  sus- 
picious and  uneasy.  One  night  a  crew  from  the  schooner 
made  a  desperate  attempt  to  board  the  lighter.  On  other 
nights  they  made  other  tries,  and  shots  were  exchanged 
before  they  were  driven  off. 

One  day  when  I  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  hole  I  had 
bored  and  had  just  succeeded  in  fastening  my  hooks  to  a 
box,  I  got  a  shock  that  made  me  believe  the  end  of  the 
world  had  come.  Something  hit  me  on  the  top  of  the 
helmet  with  a  thud  that  knocked  me  senseless  for  a 
moment.  I  reached  out  quickly  with  one  hand,  reserving 
the  other  for  my  hose,  and  felt  the  breastplate  of  a  diver. 
I  realized  what  had  happened  then.  One  of  Keedy's  men, 
sent  to  spy,  had  stumbled  through  the  sand  swirling  from 
my  pit,  and  had  fallen  in  on  me,  not  dreaming  that  I 
had  been  able  to  dig  a  fifteen-foot  hole. 

In  the  tangle  that  followed,  it  was  a  wonder  that  either 
of  us  escaped. 

414 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

By  the  way  the  man  struggled  I  knew  that  he  was 
terrified  out  of  his  senses.  He  clung  to  me  desperately, 
as  a  drowning  man  might  cling  to  a  rescuer.  Then  he 
gave  his  emergency  pull,  and  yanked  me  with  him  when 
he  went  up. 

I  had  a  raw  temper  which  went  with  my  raw  surface 
in  those  terrible  days.  I  left  hose  and  box  and  went  up 
with  the  caller,  dragging  my  knife  from  my  belt.  I  kept 
clashing  the  knife  against  the  front  bull's-eye  of  his  helmet, 
and  after  we  had  been  dragged  together  for  some  distance 
from  the  edge  of  the  hole,  and  the  sea  became  clearer,  he 
perceived  what  I  was  doing.  He  let  go  his  clutch,  and  it 
was  well  he  did,  for  I  was  in  a  state  of  maniacal  fury.  I 
would  have  ripped  his  dress  from  crotch  to  neck-band 
with  my  knife  if  he  had  not  escaped  from  me  just  as  he 
did.  I  went  back  and  recovered  my  hose,  and  after  a 
time  got  the  box.  Then  I  returned  to  the  lighter,  for  I 
was  too  unnerved  to  work  any  longer  that  day. 

As  I  lay  on  deck  that  afternoon,  a  shapeless,  hideous 
thing  of  bruised  and  macerated  flesh,  I  wondered  whether 
I  would  be  able  to  work  any  more. 

When  I  was  under  the  sea  I  was  fairly  beside  myself 
with  the  excitement  of  the  hunt.  I  could  grind  my  teeth 
together  and  groan  and  fight  my  way  through  the  sand, 
for  there  was  gold  at  the  bottom  of  the  hole  I  was  digging. 
And  every  time  I  went  down  through  that  fifteen  feet  of 
smother  I  knew  that  death  raced  me  to  the  box  of  treas- 
ure and  back.  Under  those  circumstances,  a  man  is 
desperate  enough  to  forget  his  bloody  cuts  and  raw  skin. 
But  I  felt  like  a  pretty  weak  and  useless  tool  as  I  lay 
there  on  deck. 

Kama  Holstrom  was  with  me.  She  had  insisted  on 
becoming  my  nurse.  I  craved  her  companionship,  I'll 
admit,  but  I  wanted  to  hide  myself  from  her  eyes.  Her 
father  was  in  his  state-room,  busy  at  his  job  of  adding 
more  sheets  of  iron,  more  bands  of  steel,  to  the  treasure- 
chest  he  had  taken  it  upon  himself  to  build.  We  could 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

hear  the  bang  of  his  hammer.  Captain  Holstrom  worked 
days  at  that  huge  chest,  slept  on  it  nights  with  the  key 
lashed  into  the  palm  of  his  right  hand,  and  betweenwhiles 
cuddled  those  ingots  rapturously.  In  his  way,  he  had 
become  as  insane  over  the  matter  as  I  was  myself. 

The  girl  and  I  were  in  the  lee  of  the  deck-house,  to  get 
out  of  the  trades,  and  we  did  not  see  the  boat  when  it 
came  off  Keedy's  schooner.  Had  I  seen  it  coming,  Keedy 
would  never  have  been  allowed  to  board  us.  But  all  at 
once  he  appeared  before  the  girl  and  myself.  I  felt  a 
fierce  impulse  to  get  up  and  beat  his  face  off  him,  even 
though  my  hands  were  as  sore  as  the  exposed  nerve  of 
an  aching  tooth.  He  got  that  flash  from  my  eyes,  and 
looked  meek  for  a  moment,  but  then  he  saw  the  condition 
I  was  in  and  became  insolent. 

"Better  listen  to  me,"  he  said.  "I'm  on.  I  know  your 
system.  But  I  should  say  you're  all  in,  Sidney.  You 
need  help.  There's  enough  there  for  all  of  us.  I've  got 
two  good  divers.  I'm  over  here  to  propose  that  we  call 
the  row  off,  and  I'll  send  my  men  down  to  work  with  your 
contrivance  and  give  you  a  rest." 

That  proposition  from  Marcena  Keedy,  after  what  he 
had  done  to  us  in  the  matter  of  that  twenty  thousand 
dollars,  and  after  what  he  had  tried  to  do  to  us  in  the 
affair  of  the  customs  men!  I  felt  the  language  begin  to 
roil  in  me  as  the  sand  roiled  under  the  force  of  my  stream 
from  the  nozzle. 

"Miss  Kama,"  I  pleaded,  "won't  you  please  run  away? 
I  want  to  talk  to  this  dirty  dog.  And  send  your  father 
here  with  a  club." 

She  did  not  leave  me.  She  came  closer,  and  gave  Keedy 
a  look  which  would  have  wilted  any  other  sort  of  man. 

"You  can't  afford  to  be  foolish  over  what's  past  and 
gone,"  insisted  my  ex-partner.  "  I  left  because  you  wasn't 
making  good — wasn't  holding  up  your  end  of  the  partner- 
ship. You  fell  down.  Now  if  you  can  deliver  goods 
we'll  call  off  all  trouble  and  start  it  over  again." 

416 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"Captain  Holstrom,"  I  yelled,  "come  here  quick! 
Bring  your  hammer!  Hurry!  Knock  that  devil  over- 
board!" I  shouted  when  the  captain  tore  around  the 
corner  on  the  gallop.  His  eyes  were  bulged  out,  and  he 
had  his  hammer  over  his  head,  for  I  guess  he  thought 
from  the  tone  of  my  voice  that  pirates  had  boarded  us. 
His  expression  did  not  soften  any  when  he  laid  eyes  on 
Keedy. 

The  gambler  put  up  a  lean  forefinger.  "You'd  better 
hark  to  what  I  say,  friend  Rask."  He  went  over  the  same 
talk  he  had  had  with  me. 

"  Not  by  a  continental  tin  damsite !"  howled  the  captain. 
"And  how  you  have  got  the  gall  even  to  look  the  way  of 
the  Zizania,  much  more  come  aboard  of  her,  is  what  gives 
me  a  callous  over  the  collar-button.  Get  ofFm  here!" 

"You  don't  dare  to  drive  me,  Holstrom,  after  I've 
come  to  you  with  a  fair  and  open  proposition — ready  to 
take  the  first  step  and  let  bygones  rest.  You  can't  afford 
any  big  talk!  Why,  you're  only  stealing  this  gold,  what- 
ever of  it  you  are  getting!  This  is  pirate  business — the 
whole  of  it.  Now  you  be  careful  how  you  try  to  raise  me 
out  of  the  game." 

That  taunt  about  our  rights  there  at  San  Apusa  came 
from  a  rascal  and  a  gambler,  but  the  taunt  made  me  think 
— and  it  stung,  too.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  had  done  a  little 
thinking  about  our  rights  in  the  matter  of  that  treasure. 

"You're  infernal  thieves,  and  you  can't  make  your- 
selves out  anything  else!"  Keedy  insisted.  "And  you 
can't  afford  to  throw  down  another  thief  who  is  willing 
to  come  in  and  help." 

Captain  Holstrom  shot  out  a  swift  kick  and  missed 
Keedy.  He  made  a  crack  at  him  with  the  hammer,  and 
missed  again. 

The  Keedy  person  had  had  experience  with  the  captain, 
probably,  in  past  times.  He  ran  for  the  ladder  and 
escaped  into  his  boat. 

"You  are  fools,  besides  being  thieves,"  he  informed  us, 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

standing  up  when  he  was  a  safe  distance  away,  and  shaking 
his  fists.  "  Don't  you  understand  what  I  can  do  to  you?" 

Captain  Holstrom  returned  the  fist-shaking  with  too 
much  alacrity  to  be  misunderstood. 

"All  right,"  bellowed  Keedy;  "have  it  your  own  way, 
you  fools!  I'll  do  you  so  good  that  you'll  never  know  you 
were  ever  in  the  game."  He  was  so  mad  that  he  let  out 
a  little  more  than  he  intended  to,  so  I  reckoned.  "There 
are  men  who  will  pay  me  more  for  what  I  can  tell  'em 
than  any  rake-off  you  can  give  me,  anyway."  He  was 
rowed  away  to  his  schooner. 

"That  means?"  I  suggested,  swapping  looks  with  the 
captain. 

"I  suppose  it  means  that  he  is  going  to  blow  this  thing 
to  the  underwriters." 

"Then  we  are  stealing  this  gold,  are  we?" 

Captain  Holstrom  fingered  his  red  knob  of  a  nose,  and 
looked  away  from  me. 

"I  don't  know  much  about  law,"  I  went  on.  "I  sup- 
posed you  knew  something  about  our  rights  in  this  thing — 
if  we  have  any.  I  tell  you,  it's  going  to  be  pretty  tough, 
Captain,  if  I've  been  through  all  this  hell  only  to  have  all 
our  great  hopes  grabbed  away  from  us." 

' '  Men  have  to  take  a  chance  in  this  world,  Sidney.  Damn 
the  law  in  a  case  like  this!  The  gold  was  there,  and  no- 
body was  trying  to  get  it.  We  had  a  right  to  try  for  it." 

"But  wasn't  there  any  legal  way?" 

"Oh,  a  drunken  lawyer  in  San  Francisco  told  me  some- 
thing about  power  by  attorney,  but  it  meant  chasing 
around  and  getting  hold  of  claims  by  shippers,  or  some- 
thing of  the  kind — and  that  meant  blowing  our  plans  and 
letting  a  lot  of  grafters  in  on  us.  I  simply  cleared  from 
the  custom-house  as  a  trawler  and  came  away,  minding 
my  own  business." 

"And  now  somebody  else  will  take  the  job  of  minding 
it,"  I  complained.  I  did  not  have  much  philosophy  or 
courage  about  me  just  then.  My  hands  and  feet  and 

418 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

shoulders  were  aching  too  miserably;  and  had  all  my 
suffering  and  daring  been  thrown  away? 

"Let's  go  home,  father,"  pleaded  the  girl. 

"Go  home!"  he  yelped.  "Sail  in  past  the  Golden  Gate 
with  this  gold?  Lug  it  back  where  coyote  lawyers  can 
get  their  whack  at  it  until  they've  trimmed  us  for  every 
ounce?  Well,  I  guess — not!" 

I  wondered  if  he  proposed  to  sail  around  in  the  middle 
of  the  Pacific  Ocean,  cuddling  those  ingots  for  amusement, 
the  rest  of  his  life;  but  I  had  neither  strength  nor  taste 
for  any  more  complaint  or  argument  at  that  time.  It  was 
a  mighty  dismal  outlook,  according  to  my  way  of  thinking. 
I  saw  that  I  was  tied  up  with  a  man  whose  sole  notion  was 
to  get  the  gold  without  bothering  his  head  about  how  he 
was  going  to  keep  it.  Later,  Keedy's  schooner  frothed 
out  past  us,  standing  to  sea,  and  headed  north. 

I  did  not  go  down  again  for  almost  a  week.  Courage  is 
always  a  man's  best  asset,  but  courage  in  the  job  I  had 
undertaken  was  pretty  near  my  whole  capital.  And 
courage  had  left  me — I  had  to  admit  it.  I  had  been 
doing  honest  work  with  all  a  man's  grit  and  strength  and 
will.  I  had  wrecked  my  body  and  wrenched  my  soul  in 
effort.  Yes,  the  work  part  of  it  was  honest,  but  how  about 
the  honesty  of  our  undertaking?  I  had  got  some  plain 
words  from  Keedy — and  I  got  no  consolation  from  Cap- 
tain Holstrom.  I  was  daredevil  enough  and  plenty  in 
those  days,  but  I  was  not  the  sort  of  a  daredevil  who 
would  make  a  successful  pirate. 

I  sat  on  deck  day  after  day,  and  bore  with  my  agonies 
of  body  and  wrestled  with  my  soul.  An  idea  had  come 
to  me  as  I  had  struggled  with  that  problem  of  our  rights. 
It  was  a  rather  vague  idea.  Of  only  one  point  of  it  was 
I  sure — its  success  depended  on  getting  as  much  of  that 
gold  as  I  could  tear  out  of  the  sand. 

Thinking  upon  it,  hoping  that  good  would  come  from 
it,  brought  my  courage  back  to  me.  I  was  again  ready 
to  undergo  tortures  and  to  face  death. 

419 


XXXV 

SUBMARINE   PICKPOCKETS 

ANEW  arrival  off  San  Apusa  Bar  had  interested  us 
for  a  couple  of  days.  It  was  a  husky  sloop  with  a 
leg-of-mutton  mainsail — a  broad-bellied  craft  on  which 
a  dozen  men  showed  themselves  when  it  sailed  past  us  to 
take  up  a  position  near  the  ribs  of  the  wreck.  This  sloop 
seemed  to  be  of  a  build  to  ride  the  surges  easily,  and  ven- 
tured much  closer  inshore  than  we  had  dared  to  anchor 
our  lighter.  The  men  did  not  visit  us,  and  displayed  no 
desire  to  meddle  with  the  secrets  of  the  equipment  on  the 
walled-up  scow.  We  wondered  who  they  were,  why  they 
were  there,  and  left  them  alone. 

I  went  down  and  crawfished  my  way  over  the  sand 
windrows,  but  I  could  make  only  slow  work  of  it,  for  I  was 
stiffened  by  my  days  of  inaction.  But  that  new  idea  of 
mine  went  along  with  me  for  my  encouragement. 

I  had  hardly  put  myself  in  position,  ready  to  call  for 
my  stream  of  water,  when  I  got  a  rousing  surprise.  Down 
through  the  sea  came  rushing  a  naked  man.  The  depths 
were  fairly  clear,  for  I  had  not  begun  to  stir  the  roil  with 
my  nozzle.  His  eyes  were  wide  open  and  staring,  and  I 
reckon  that  I  peered  at  him  through  my  bull's-eye  with 
eyes  just  as  wide  open.  When  he  arrived  close  to  me  he 
dropped  a  rock  from  each  hand,  his  diving  weights,  and 
grabbed  me,  hanging  to  my  belt.  I  sat  right  there  on  the 
sand  and  gaped  at  him.  His  mouth  was  shut  tight — he 
was  holding  his  breath. 

In  a  short  time  another  naked  man  came  down  like  the 
stick  of  a  sky-rocket.  He  dropped  his  rocks  and  grabbed 

420 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

me,  and  the  first  man  let  go  and  went  swimming  up  to 
the  surface.  Then  came  a  third  man  and  replaced  the 
second. 

I  began  to  feel  like  a  candidate  for  office  in  the  receiving 
line.  I  wanted  to  ask  some  questions  about  what  this 
function  meant.  But  for  good  and  obvious  reasons  I 
could  not  carry  on  a  conversation,  and  I  did  not  know  the 
deaf-and-dumb  alphabet. 

Along  came  the  fourth  man.  I  noticed  that  each  man 
wore  a  narrow  belt  with  a  huge  knife  fastened  in  it. 
And  that's  all  the  man  did  wear.  The  sight  of  the  knife 
made  me  rather  nervous.  A  man  under  water,  straining 
to  hold  his  breath,  his  eyes  bulging  with  his  efforts,  is  a 
savage-looking  object  at  best.  These  men  were  plainly 
Mexicans,  and  they  looked  particularly  savage.  I  felt 
pretty  sure  that  they  were  not  diving  down  there  to  cheer 
me  in  my  loneliness  or  to  ask  me  to  run  for  mayor. 

Then  it  came  to  me  all  at  once  who  these  men  were. 
As  a  submarine  worker,  I  was  interested,  of  course,  in  all 
sorts  of  jobs  under  the  sea,  and  I  had  read  various  ac- 
counts of  the  Mexican  pearl  divers.  I  knew  that  they 
could  descend  long  distances  and  could  remain  under 
water,  many  of  them,  for  ninety  seconds.  One  man  suc- 
ceeded another,  diving  in  rotation.  I  remained  there 
without  moving,  staring  at  them  until  I  began  to  recognize 
faces.  They  were  making  me  return  visits.  I  realized 
that  they  did  not  propose  to  carve  me — the  first  man 
could  have  done  that  on  his  first  call.  Therefore  I  got 
my  nerve  back  and  decided  to  go  to  work.  I  signaled  for 
water. 

It  occurred  to  me  that  my  new  friends  might  find  that 
the  "fogo"  I  stirred  with  that  hose  would  be  a  little  too 
much  for  them.  I  resisted  an  impulse  to  bat  them  away 
from  me  with  that  nozzle,  a  considerable  effort  in  self- 
control,  for  my  temper  was  pretty  short  in  those  dreadful 
days. 

They  stuck  to  me  bravely  at  first  when  the  sand  began 

421 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

to  swirl.  There  was  an  itching  under  my  ribs  when  the 
sand  made  a  pall  and  darkness  settled  on  me.  I  was 
afraid  that  one  of  my  callers  might  become  peevish  and 
ram  his  knife  into  me  as  a  hint  not  to  muddy  that  water. 

It  was  not  easy  to  hold  my  position  and  work  with  a 
man  anchored  to  me.  But  I  was  not  bothered  for  long. 

The  tug  at  my  belt  ceased  suddenly,  and  I  knew  that 
they  had  given  up.  They  could  not  find  me  in  that 
smother. 

They  resumed  operations  again  when  I  got  up  my  first 
box.  In  working  my  way  out  of  the  hole  I  decreased  the 
flow  from  the  hose,  and  when  I  reached  the  top  of  the  sand 
the  swirling  particles  were  settling  and  were  being  washed 
farther  inshore  by  the  surges.  In  a  clearer  sea  down  came 
those  devils  once  more,  and  fastened  to  me,  one  by  one, 
like  leeches.  They  tried  to  clutch  the  box,  but  it  was  too 
heavy  for  them.  It  was  hoisted  past  them  up  to  the  surf- 
boat,  and  once  more  I  drove  the  nozzle  into  the  sand  and 
forced  them  off  me  with  a  whirlpool  of  mush. 

They  were  more  bothersome  the  next  time  I  allowed 
the  sea  to  clear.  Two  dove  at  a  time,  and  grabbed  me, 
and  almost  lifted  me  up  with  them.  I  was  furious,  but  I 
did  not  try  to  beat  them  off.  I  kept  on  about  my  own 
affairs  as  best  I  could,  and  allowed  them  to  hang  on  to  me. 
There  were  a  dozen  of  them  above,  with  knives,  and  I 
had  no  hankering  to  tackle  the  pack.  I  was  not  sure  as 
to  their  motives,  anyway.  One  rip  of  a  knife  would  have 
put  me  out  of  business.  But  they  did  not  offer  to  use 
knives. 

I  did  a  short  day's  work  and  went  back  to  the  lighter. 
Captain  Holstrom  had  watched  their  diving  operations 
and  was  full  of  eager  questions. 

That  night  we  doubled  the  guards  on  the  Zizania. 
But  no  boat  came  near  us. 

My  friends  were  ready  for  me  next  day,  and  resumed 
the  same  tactics.  I  carried  a  bigger  knife,  and  kept  my 
eye  out  as  best  I  could.  But  before  I  got  the  stream  started 

422 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

they  were  coming  at  me  three  at  a  time.  They  kept  lift- 
ing me  off  bottom,  and  I  wasted  a  lot  of  valuable  time  and 
much  of  my  little  stock  of  strength  before  I  got  down  on 
the  sand  and  began  to  bore.  They  were  ready  for  me 
again  as  soon  as  I  got  up  with  a  box  and  the  sea  had  cleared 
a  bit.  One  of  them  brought  a  rope,  and  tried  to  get  it 
around  a  box  I  was  handling,  but  I  had  my  tongs  well 
set,  and  my  men  hoisted  the  treasure  away  from  them. 
Then  they  began  to  interfere  with  me  so  savagely  that  I 
quit  in  disgust  and  signaled  to  be  pulled  up. 

I  was  half  crazy  with  rage,  and  frantic  because  this  sort 
of  business  was  putting  me  where  I  could  not  realize  on 
that  idea  which  I  was  nursing. 

After  listening  to  me,  Captain  Holstrom  set  his  cap 
well  down  over  his  ears,  jutting  his  chin,  set  his  teeth,  and 
called  for  his  boat.  He  was  rowed  over  to  the  side  of  the 
little  sloop.  He  came  back  very  soon  and  he  was  not 
looking  pleased. 

"I  couldn't  get  anything  out  of  that  bunch  except  a 
few  grunts  and  a  lot  of  jabber,"  he  reported.  "They  make 
believe  they  can't  understand  the  English  language. 
They  want  graft,  I  suppose.  They'd  understand,  all  right, 
if  I  was  to  carry  over  a  slug  of  gold  and  dump  it  over  the 
rail.  But  I'm  about  tired  of  feeding  gold  to  everybody 
who  comes  along  here." 

"This  isn't  our  gold  to  give  away  to  all  comers,"  I  told 
him.  He  blinked  at  me,  and  did  not  seem  to  understand. 
I  did  not  go  into  that  side  of  the  question  any  further,  for 
I  was  not  ready  for  much  argument  at  that  time.  "I'll 
not  stand  for  any  more  'hot  rocks,'"  I  told  him. 

"Nor  I,  either,"  he  agreed.  "Begin  to  feed  gold  to 
those  chaps,  and  they'll  think  we  are  scared  of  'em  and 
they'll  want  the  whole  mess." 

To  show  them  that  I  was  not  scared,  I  went  down  the 
next  day,  and  I  had  a  wire  edge  on  my  temper.    I  balked 
at  starting  a  knife  duel,  however,  and  after  a  struggle  got 
my  hole  started. 
28  423 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

I  struck  something  new  that  day  in  the  ruck  at  the 
bottom  of  the  hole.  I  found  ingots  loose  in  the  hodge- 
podge of  pantry  wreckage.  A  wooden  box  had  been 
smashed.  I  had  a  slit  and  a  sort  of  deep  pocket  in  the 
canvas  overalls  affair  which  protected  my  India-rubber 
suit.  As  my  toes  located  loose  ingots,  I  sifted  the  mush  of 
sand  with  the  fingers  of  one  hand,  captured  the  gold,  and 
stuffed  it  down  into  the  deep  pocket.  I  came  up  with  a 
box,  and  my  breeches  were  bagging  with  gold. 

Then  came  the  climax  of  my  strained  relations  with 
those  greaser  divers.  I've  heard  of  pickpockets  operating 
everywhere,  almost,  but  I  reckon  that  I'm  the  first  and 
only  man  who  ever  had  his  pockets  picked  at  the  bottom 
of  the  sea.  The  first  devil  who  got  to  me  as  the  sand 
settled,  in  groping  for  a  handhold  on  my  dress,  felt  the 
loose  ingots.  He  got  one,  but  he  did  not  get  away  with  it. 
Trouble  or  no  trouble,  knives  or  no  knives,  I  had  got  to 
the  limit  of  my  temper.  I  gave  him  a  jab  with  the  end  of 
my  sheet-iron  nozzle,  and  as  near  as  I  could  judge  I  took 
a  hunk  of  meat  out  of  him  as  neatly  as  a  woman  could 
operate  on  dough  with  a  doughnut  cutter.  The  edges  of 
that  nozzle  had  been  whetted  on  sand  until  they  were  as 
sharp  as  a  razor  blade.  The  fellow  dropped  that  ingot 
and  darted  upward,  blood  streaming  behind  him.  Another 
diver  was  coming  down  to  take  his  place,  but  when  I 
jabbed  at  him  with  the  nozzle  he  whirled  like  a  fish  and 
went  up,  giving  me  an  awful  kick  when  he  started. 

I  reckoned  I  had  thrown  down  the  gage  of  battle,  and 
I  was  not  minded  to  stay  there  and  meet  the  pack,  for  I 
was  weak  after  my  extra  struggle  down  in  the  hole.  It 
had  been  a  tedious  job  gathering  that  loose  gold.  I  saw 
the  box  started  on  the  way  to  the  surf-boat,  gave  the 
emergency  signal,  and  was  yanked  back  to  the  lighter  at 
a  lively  clip. 

Later  that  day,  being  in  a  proper  and  ugly  frame  of 
mind,  I  tucked  a  rifle  under  my  arm  and  had  myself 
rowed  to  the  neighboring  sloop.  I  found  the  spokesman 

424 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

of  the  crew  ready  to  talk  English  that  day,  all  right.  But 
when  our  conversation  was  ended  I  had  received  a  sur- 
prise. No  demand  was  made  on  me  for  a  "hot  rock." 
I  found  that  I  was  dealing  with  men  who  had  deeper 
motives.  It  took  me  some  time  to  understand  that  they 
were  not  holding  out  for  a  big  offer.  The  man  at  the  rail 
wrinkled  his  nose  and  sneered  when  I  angrily  told  him 
that  was  what  they  were  after. 

"It's  what  I'd  expect  a  gringo  to  tell  me,"  he  said. 
"But  we  are  not  here  to  do  business  with  thieves.  You 
have  no  right  to  be  here.  You  may  pick  and  steal,  but  it 
will  not  amount  to  that!"  He  snapped  his  finger  above 
his  head.  "We  shall  do  our  business  with  those  who  will 
have  the  gold  in  the  end,  with  those  who  can  pay  and 
will  pay.  And  we  have  a  man  who  will  see  that  we  are 
paid." 

My  wits  had  been  sharpened  while  I  had  toiled  at  San 
Apusa  Bar.  I  was  able  to  see  farther  into  the  ways  of 
guile  than  before  I  had  met  a  man  like  Marcena  Keedy. 
I  had  a  flash  of  suspicion  that  was  almost  instinct. 

"So  you  think  you  have  made  a  better  trade  with  that 
renegade,  Keedy,  do  you?"  I  flung  at  him. 

I  was  sure  I  had  guessed  right;  the  man's  face  betrayed 
him. 

"Oh,  we  are  honest  men — not  thieves,"  he  called  back. 
"We  do  not  deal  with  thieves.  We  came  here  to  stop 
you  from  stealing.  But  you  do  not  stop.  Now  we  shall 
see.  We  have  kept  our  knives  in  our  belts.  But  you 
have  set  us  an  example.  You  have  tried  to  kill  a  man 
who  did  not  offer  to  hurt  you."  He  leaped  up  on  the  rail, 
and  aimed  a  long  finger  at  me.  "We  can  fight  the  way 
you  do.  If  we  catch  you  there  on  bottom  again  you'll 
be  pulled  up  with  six  of  these  sticking  in  you."  He  patted 
the  knife  in  his  belt. 

There  are  men  who  can  threaten  and  who  cannot  im- 
press others.  It  is  easily  docketed  as  bluster.  There  is 
another  kind  of  a  man  who  gives  you  a  look  and  a  word, 

425 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

and  you  know  that  he  means  what  he  says.  I  went  away 
from  that  sloop  feeling  that  if  I  were  desperate  enough 
just  then  to  commit  suicide,  an  easy  way  had  been  opened 
for  me. 

I  went  and  tumbled  into  my  berth,  and  viewed  the 
ruins  of  that  idea  which  I  had  been  building  so  prayer- 
fully. It  looked  to  me  then,  in  my  despondency,  as  if 
Keedy  was  holding  mighty  good  cards.  If  he  had  decided 
to  turn  informer,  he  could  demand  and  would  undoubtedly 
receive  a  noble  rake-off.  It  was  probable  that  he  would 
inform — for  that  would  be  his  natural,  lazy  method  of 
making  his  money  out  of  the  thing.  The  posting  of  the 
pearl  divers  in  behalf  of  the  underwriters  would  be  an 
additional  feather  in  his  cap;  on  the  other  hand,  if  he 
proposed  to  come  with  a  backer  and  new  equipment — 
having  discovered  my  system — he  had  good  reasons  for 
leaving  men  behind  him  who  would  hold  us  in  check.  If 
Keedy  returned  with  steam -pumps  he  could  rip  the 
bottom  out  of  the  Pacific.  Our  makeshift  equipment 
would  not  be  two-spot  high. 

And  how  soon  could  he  return,  whether  he  came  piloting 
the  underwriters  or  came  on  his  own  hook  as  a  rival 
"thief  " ?  I  talked  with  Captain  Holstrom  on  that  matter 
the  next  day.  He  rubbed  his  nose  and  scruffed  his  hair, 
and  could  not  guess. 

I  asked  the  captain  for  his  estimate  of  the  amount  of 
treasure  in  our  chest.  He  told  me  that  we  had  rising  three- 
quarters  of  a  million. 

"Captain,  it  has  become  a  matter  of  touch  and  go — 
live  or  die — with  us.  With  less  than  a  third  of  that  gold 
in  our  hands,  we're  in  no  position  to  do  business  when  the 
pinch  comes.  I'm  going  after  the  rest  of  it!" 

"But  you  said  you  knew  them  greaser  pickerel  would 
poke  their  knives  into  you.  God  knows  I'm  hungry  for 
the  rest  of  the  treasure,  Sidney,  but  I'm  no  Marcena 
Keedy." 

"I'm  going  down  at  night,  Captain  Holstrom." 

426 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"It  can't  be  done." 

"It  can  be  done.  After  I  get  my  stream  started  I'm 
in  the  dark  even  when  the  sun  is  brightest.  I  know  the 
way  from  the  lighter  to  that  wreck,  all  right.  I've  dragged 
my  way  there  times  enough  with  a  trail  of  blood  behind 
me,"  I  told  him,  sourly.  "It  can  never  be  any  worse  than 
it  has  been.  We'll  take  extra  chances,  moor  the  lighter 
nearer  the  wreck,  get  rid  of  the  surf-boat  and  crew,  and 
leave  those  greasers  guessing." 

I  want  to  say,  to  the  credit  of  the  captain,  that  he 
opposed  this  undertaking  of  mine.  His  daughter —  But 
I  will  not  dwell  on  that  point.  It  harrows  my  soul  now 
to  remember  the  manner  in  which  I  opposed  my  obstinate 
and  reckless  will  to  her  honest  grief  and  her  almost  frantic 
protests. 

I  went  down  that  night.  I  gave  'em  three  boxes  before 
midnight.  I  ate  a  lunch,  and  gave  'em  one  box  more 
before  I  quit. 

I  have  no  ambition  to  make  this  story  a  rival  of  Fox's 
Book  of  Martyrs.  I  have  already  given  some  idea  of  the 
physical  state  I  was  in.  I  think  I  became  numb  to  pain, 
accustomed  to  agonies.  I  cannot  explain  otherwise  how 
I  ever  kept  on,  night  after  night.  I  haven't  the  courage 
to  write  down  what  I  suffered. 

But  out  from  under  those  grinning  greasers — grinning 
their  sneers  at  us  daytimes — I  dragged  one  and  one-half 
million  dollars'  worth  of  gold  ingots  inside  of  two  weeks — 
and  they  never  suspected  that  I  was  under  water. 

During  the  last  of  that  nightmare,  I  felt  as  if  I  were 
working  with  my  chin  over  my  shoulder.  I  was  looking 
for  trouble.  I  was  expecting  disaster.  I  was  scared  to 
the  marrow.  I  am  not  referring  to  any  feelings  I  had  on 
account  of  the  pearl  divers.  Their  bug  eyes  had  never 
detected  me  in  what  I  was  about.  I  knew  that  darkness 
protected  me  more  surely  from  any  attack  by  them  than 
iron  walls  would  have  done. 

But  I  worked  nights  with  the  constant  feeling  that  the 

427 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

red  and  green  eyes  of  a  steamer  were  coming  up  over  the 
horizon.  When  I  was  awake  daytimes  I  peered  into  the 
northern  sky  hour  after  hour,  expecting  and  dreading  to 
see  the  trail  of  smoke  which  would  announce  the  coming 
of  Marcena  Keedy  and  those  whom  he  had  notified. 

My  conferences  with  Captain  Holstrom  had  been  scant 
and  rather  brusque.  There  were  some  points  in  that  idea 
of  mine  that  I  had  not  thought  out  to  my  own  satisfaction, 
and  I  had  not  found  the  captain  to  be  especially  helpful 
in  attacking  problems.  He  was  wholly  taken  up  in  help- 
ing to  pull  that  gold  in  over  the  rail,  in  storing  it,  in 
guarding  it. 

His  daughter  knew  why  I  stared  at  the  northern  horizon, 
and  why  desperate  worry  added  to  the  other  woes  I  was 
suffering  in  that  tophet  of  toil.  She  had  resigned  herself 
to  the  situation  when  I  had  persisted  in  keeping  on.  She 
became,  as  before,  my  wistful  nurse.  She  talked  to  me  as 
she  would  have  soothed  a  madman  whom  she  hoped  to 
win  back  to  sanity.  Well,  I  was  a  lunatic  in  those  days — 
there's  not  much  doubt  of  it.  It  was  madness  made  up 
of  fear,  desperation,  agony  of  physical  pain,  lust  for  gold — 
all  forcing  me  to  do  work  which  no  sane  man  could  have 
accomplished  in  my  condition  of  body. 

She  dared  to  break  her  usual  silence  on  the  matter  of 
the  treasure  when  we  were  on  deck  one  afternoon  after 
my  sleep.  She  had  been  gazing  at  me  sorrowfully  while 
I  stared  into  the  north. 

"Oh,  what  use  is  it — this  dreadful  work  and  worry? 
You  have  told  me  that  you  feel  like  a  thief  in  it  all.  You 
sit  and  stare  into  the  north  as  though  you  were  a  wicked 
man,  instead  of  being  so  brave  and  successful  in  the  most 
wonderful  work  a  man  ever  did.  You  are  getting  their 
gold  for  them.  But  you  feel  that  they  are  coming  to  take 
it  all  away — and  call  you  a  thief.  You  cannot  deceive 
me  as  to  your  thoughts." 

I  had  to  acknowledge  to  myself  that  her  woman's 
intuition  was  in  fine  working  order.  I  understood  what 

428 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

men  were,  naturally,  in  affairs  where  big  sums  of  money 
were  involved.  These  men,  provided  Keedy  had  done  as  I 
supposed  he  had,  would  have  Keedy 's  lies  about  us  to 
inflame  them  still  further  in  addition  to  their  natural 
greed. 

But  she  was  no  quitter  on  one  point.  She  clenched  her 
little  fists  and  kept  on : 

"  I  say  fight  back !  It  may  be  their  money — somebody's 
money — but  what  good  did  it  do  them  or  anybody  else 
until  you  came  here  with  your  strength  and  your  courage 
and  your  brains  and  got  it  up  from  the  bottom  of  the 
ocean?  I  don't  know  what  the  law  is  about  such  things — 
I  don't  care.  I've  heard  you  and  father  talk,  but  I  only 
know  that  often  in  this  life  law  is  one  thing  and  justice  is 
another." 

"There  are  the  laws  of  salvage,"  I  told  her.  "We 
could  turn  this  money  over  and  wait  for  the  courts  to 
decide.  But  I'm  afraid  of  what  may  happen  if  we  do 
that.  There's  that  renegade  Keedy  with  his  lies;  there 
are  the  customs  men  of  Mexico,  and  all  that  mess  of  in- 
ternational law  to  complicate  things.  Keedy  can  claim 
partnership;  the  shippers  can  claim  shares,  I  suppose; 
this  one  and  that  one  can  dip  in  their  fingers;  and  lawyers 
can  tie  the  matter  up;  and  God  only  knows  when  it  will 
all  be  untied  so  that  we  can  get  what  we  have  honestly 
earned.  We  may  have  to  fight  for  our  liberty,  for  men  are 
crazy  enough  to  try  to  make  us  out  thieves,  providing 
they  can  get  hold  of  much  money  by  lies  and  injustice.  I 
have  been  pounding  it  all  out  in  my  poor  head,  and  I  can't 
seem  to  believe  that  the  law  is  going  to  give  us  what  we 
ought  to  have.  For,  you  see,  this  thing  isn't  like  anything 
else  that  has  ever  happened." 

"I  say  fight!"  she  insisted,  her  eyes  alight,  her  cheeks 
flaming  under  the  tan.  "You  have  fought  the  ocean  for 
their  sakes  as  well  as  your  own — and  you  have  won. 
Keep  on  fighting!  Plan  something,  do  something — get 
into  some  position  where  they  will  have  to  come  to  you 

429 


WHERE    YOUR    TREASURE    IS 

and  beg  for  what's  theirs.  You  have  earned  the  right  to 
make  them  beg.  And  you  know  you  have!" 

Yes,  I  did  know  it;  and  on  that  belief  I  had  based 
my  idea  which  had  served  for  my  encouragement.  Her 
advice  and  her  woman's  spirit  in  the  matter  heartened 
me.  She  had  acted  like  the  lady  of  the  castle  of  whom 
I  had  read.  She  brought  to  me  my  helmet  and  shield, 
and  was  sending  me  out  to  battle  as  a  brave  woman 
should.  I  started  to  tell  her  more  about  my  idea — but 
we  were  interrupted. 

There  was  a  queer  noise  in  the  direction  of  the  ladder 
which  led  to  the  lower  deck.  It  was  such  a  prodigious 
puffing  and  wheezing  and  grunting  that  anybody  might 
suppose  that  we  were  going  to  receive  a  visit  from  a 
hippopotamus.  The  Snohomish  Glutton,  the  cook  of  the 
Zizania,  appeared  to  us.  I  had  not  laid  eyes  on  that  in- 
dividual for  weeks.  He  stuck  in  his  pantry  like  a  hermit 
in  a  cell,  reveling  in  the  steam  of  food,  stuffing  himself 
even  while  he  was  cooking  for  others.  He  rolled  rather 
than  walked  across  the  deck,  and  stood  before  us,  propping 
up  the  rolls  of  fat  which  shuttered  his  little  eyes. 

"I  don't  know  how  much  there  is  or  where  you're 
keeping  it,"  he  blurted,  without  preface,  in  his  tin-whistle 
voice.  "I  don't  ask  questions — I  stay  in  my  pantry  and 
mind  my  business.  But  I  serve  the  niggers  in  the  port 
alley  and  the  whites  in  the  starboard  alley,  and  I  hear 
both  sides.  But  there's  only  one  side  now.  They  said 
that  the  monkey's  tail  started  the  row.  But  they've 
forgotten  the  row.  Gold  will  make  men  forget  'most  any- 
thing. They've  got  together  at  last.  They  are  going  to 
grab  for  it.  They  thought  I  haven't  been  hearing  because 
my  eyes  were  shut  and  I  seemed  to  be  asleep." 

"What  do  you  mean,  my  man?"  I  demanded. 

"I  mean  that  you  can  play  checkers  on  that  checker- 
board crew  now,  sir.  It  has  settled  into  a  solid  board — 
white  and  black  mixed.  The  Russian  Finn  is  captain. 
He  killed  my  cat.  I  have  said  I  would  get  even  with  him. 

430 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

He  is  captain,  and  they  are  going  to  drop  on  to  that  gold 
and  run  away." 

"They  have  planned  a  mutiny?" 

"  Mutiny  and  all  the  side  dishes  that  go  with  it.  I  have 
heard.  I  wasn't  asleep  when  they  thought  I  was.  I've 
got  to  go  back.  I  have  duff  in  the  pot." 

He  backed  to  the  ladder  and  let  himself  down,  rung  by 
rung,  grunting  more  terrifically  than  before. 

The  girl  leaped  to  her  feet.  She  held  her  clenched  fists 
above  her  head.  Her  white  teeth  showed  beneath  the 
crimson  of  her  parted  lips.  She  drove  her  hands  down  at 
her  sides. 

"Oh!"  she  had  gasped,  when  her  hands  were  above  her 
head.  When  she  drove  them  down  her  woman's  soul 
spoke  its  anger  and  horror.  "Damn  the  name  of  gold!" 
she  cried;  and  I  would  not  have  indorsed  a  milder  phrase 
even  from  her. 

For  weeks  my  head  had  been  full  of  seething  particles 
of  schemes  relating  to  my  central  idea.  I  reckon  it  needed 
a  shock — needed  the  desperate  occasion  of  instant  action 
— to  make  those  particles  cohere  into  resolve.  For  a 
moment  I  was  stunned  by  the  prospect  of  this  new  danger; 
and  then  a  course  of  action  came  to  me  in  a  flash  of  in- 
spiration— it  was  the  result  of  all  the  thinking  I  had  been 
doing,  without  making  up  my  mind  to  act. 

I  hobbled  to  find  Captain  Holstrom  in  his  state-room. 
I  had  to  push  him  back  when  he  had  heard  a  dozen  words 
of  what  I  had  reported.  He  had  grabbed  his  pistols  and 
was  rushing  to  kill  off  a  few  prospective  mutineers  as  an 
example  to  the  others. 

"You  have  got  to  do  what  I  advise  in  this  matter, 
Captain.  "I've  been  making  plans.  We've  got  not  only 
this  crew  to  consider,  but  Keedy  and  those  he  is  bringing 
down  here.  He  is  coming.  We  may  as  well  make  up  our 
minds  to  that.  I  want  you  to  go  down  on  the  main  deck 
as  quickly  as  you  can  and  order  the  crew  to  get  out 
planks  and  start  in  making  strong  boxes.  Privately,  you 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

and  I  will  overhaul  the  junk  for  scrap  iron,  for  chains  and 
cable.  Get  after  the  men.  Hustle  them.  Make  it  a 
hurry-up  job.  Busy  men  won't  have  time  to  talk  mutiny. 
And  say  to  one  of  the  mates,  when  you  are  giving  off 
orders,  that  you  are  going  to  pack  the  treasure  into  boxes 
suitable  for  handling.  Say  that  loud  enough  so  that  all 
the  men  will  hear." 

"I'll  be  joheifered  if  I  don't  believe  I've  got  to  handle 
a  lunatic  as  well  as  a  mutiny,"  flamed  Captain  Holstrom. 
"Are  you  advising  me  to  pack  up  that  gold  so  that  it  will 
be  easy  lugging  for  the  crew?" 

"As  soon  as  they  believe  that  it  is  going  to  be  packed 
so  as  to  be  easy  lugging  there'll  be  no  mutiny  until  those 
boxes  have  been  made.  You've  got  to  do  as  I  say.  You 
ought  to  have  had  your  lesson  by  this  time  that  I  know 
what  I'm  talking  about." 

He  shuttled  his  eyes  when  I  looked  at  him.  He  was 
remembering  those  past  matters  in  which  he  had  made  a 
fool  of  himself  in  resisting  me.  I  was  willing  to  explain  my 
plan  to  him,  for  I  was  not  trying  to  humiliate  Captain 
Holstrom.  But  just  then  I  had  a  feeling  that  every  mo- 
ment counted.  One  instant  more  and  I  knew  what  the 
pricking  of  my  mental  thumbs  had  meant.  Mate  Number- 
two  Jones  came  clattering  along  the  deck  from  below.  He 
shoved  a  red  and  greatly  troubled  face  in  at  the  door. 

' '  Get  your  guns,  Cap'n  Holstrom, ' '  he  panted.  ' '  They're 
grumbling  and  mumbling.  It  means  mutiny." 

"Take  your  guns  with  you,  if  you  like,"  I  told  the 
captain.  "But  go  down  there  as  cool  as  you  can.  Give 
off  your  orders  as  if  you  didn't  notice  anything.  And  be 
sure  to  throw  out  that  hint  about  why  you  want  the 
boxes  made.  This  is  no  time  to  bull  this  game  of  ours." 

Captain  Holstrom  was  no  fool,  and  he  knew  when  a  man 
was  in  dead  earnest.  I  pushed  him  and  he  went.  I'll 
have  to  confess  that  he  qualified  as  a  good  actor  when  he 
arrived  on  the  main  deck. 

I  was  looking  down  from  the  bridge,  and  I  saw  the  men 

432 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

of  the  crew  exchange  winks  and  grins  behind  the  captain's 
back. 

The  model  crew  of  the  crack  ship  in  all  the  world  could 
not  have  shown  such  willing  obedience.  They  went  to 
their  work  on  the  rush.  Saws  rasped  and  hammers 
banged.  There  was  clattering  of  iron  and  hum  of  industry. 

Captain  Holstrom  left  the  work  in  charge  of  his  mates, 
and  came  back  to  his  state-room  to  resume  his  watch  over 
the  treasure.  I  closeted  myself  with  him. 

"Now,  we'll  get  down  to  the  bed-rock  of  the  proposi- 
tion, Captain  Holstrom.  We  have  agreed — you  and  I — 
that  Keedy  is  about  due  here.  We  don't  know  who  will 
come  with  him.  But  we  can  be  mighty  sure  that  they'll 
be  no  friends  of  ours.  We'd  be  playing  the  parts  of  idiots 
to  keep  that  gold  on  board  the  Zizania.  But  there  isn't 
a  harbor  nearer  than  Acapulco  where  we  can  land  it; 
we  can't  lug  it  ashore  on  the  open  coast  through  the 
breakers;  we  can't  dodge  all  around  the  Pacific  Ocean 
with  it.  Right  now,  there's  another  complication  besides 
Keedy  and  his  crowd.  We  have  still  more  desperate 
thieves  right  here  with  us.  The  mates  and  Shank  are  safe. 
To-night  the  five  of  us  will  get  busy,  pack  that  gold  in  the 
strong  boxes,  and  drop  it  overboard." 

"Great  guns!"  groaned  the  captain.  "I  said  you  was 
crazy,  and  now  I'm  sure  of  it.  Dig  it  all  up,  and  then 
throw  it  away  again!  No,  let's  not  put  it  in  the  boxes. 
Let's  hoot  and  holler  and  cavort  around  the  deck  and  heave 
it  overboard,  one  ingot  at  a  time,  so  as  to  see  who  can  make 
the  biggest  splash.  Come  on — let's  have  fun!"  he  raved. 

"I  am  far  from  being  crazy,  Captain  Holstrom,"  I  in- 
formed him,  giving  him  the  hard  eye  so  steadily  that  he 
blinked.  "To  each  box  we'll  hitch  chain  long  enough 
to  reach  to  the  surface.  That  chain  will  have  rope  cable — 
say  ten  feet  of  it — hitched  to  the  end,  and  the  rope  will 
be  buoyed  to  a  small  spar.  The  box  and  all  the  chain  will 
lie  on  bottom.  The  small  spar  with  its  rope  cable  will 
swim  well  under  the  surface  of  the  water.  In  case  we  want 

433 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

to  raise  the  box  we  can  catch  the  rope  and  spar  with  a 
rake,  or  else  drag  for  it  with  a  chain  between  two  boats." 

"  I  hate  to  see  that  gold  go  under  water  again,"  mourned 
Captain  Holstrom. 

"It's  that  or  stand  by  and  see  mutineers  lug  it  off  or 
lawyers  divide  it." 

He  writhed  like  a  speared  fish  when  he  pondered  on  the 
alternatives.  I  went  out  on  deck  and  left  him  to  think, 
confident  that  his  slow  mind  would  finally  swing  to  my 
way  of  making  the  best  of  a  bad  matter. 

The  checker-board  crew  was  at  work  in  a  real  frenzy 
of  effort.  I  have  no  doubt  that  each  man  secretly  told 
himself  that  he  was  building  his  own  box — and  he  was 
putting  his  best  work  into  his  treasure-carrier. 

The  summer  evening  was  long  and  the  crew  labored  on 
after  their  supper.  According  to  my  best  judgment,  when 
darkness  shut  down  on  their  labors  there  were  boxes 
enough  for  our  purpose.  The  men  went  to  their  rest  on 
the  berth-deck  in  the  forepeak  of  the  steamer.  Captain 
Holstrom  had  remarked,  casually,  in  their  hearing,  that 
he  would  wait  till  next  day  before  packing  the  ingots. 
From  my  post  on  the  bridge,  though  the  dusk  had  deep- 
ened, I  caught  a  cheerful  wink  or  two  between  man  and 
man,  and  they  went  below  looking  like  cats  who  had  been 
promised  a  full  meal  of  canaries. 

In  order  to  encourage  general  peace  and  confidence, 
the  mates  allowed  the  usual  deck  watch  to  go  below  and 
sleep,  and  the  lazy  sailors  were  only  too  glad  to  do  so. 

When  they  were  snoring  in  satisfactory  chorus,  Captain 
Holstrom  slid  their  hatch  over  and  barred  it  so  as  to  guard 
against  a  surprise  by  peepers.  Before  two  bells  after 
midnight  the  last  box  of  our  gold  had  gone  gurgling  down 
over  the  taffrail.  The  last  spar  winked  out  of  sight  under 
the  surge. 

"It's  gone!"  groaned  Captain  Holstrom. 

"Thank  God,  it  has!"  said  I,  and  felt  the  girl's  little 
hand  snuggle  comfortingly  into  my  unsightly  fist. 

434 


XXXVI 

THE  TERROR  FROM  THE  NORTH 

HTHE  next  morning  Captain  Holstrom  ordered  the 
1  checker-board  crew  assembled  on  the  main  deck, 
forward.  He  appeared  on  the  bridge  and  leaned  over  the 
rail  like  a  candidate  ready  to  make  a  stump  speech.  But, 
unlike  a  candidate,  he  had  two  revolvers  strapped  to  his 
waist  and  in  plain  sight. 

"  I  have  a  few  words  to  say  to  you  critters  down  there," 
he  began.  "  I  know  all  about  what  you  have  been  planning 
to  do.  I  have  watched  you  peeking  and  spying  around 
this  morning  for  them  boxes.  Well,  you  won't  find  them. 
Them  boxes  are  a  good  way  off."  He  pointed  a  stubby 
finger  down  at  the  Russian  Finn.  "You  come  up  here!" 
he  commanded.  The  Finn  turned  pale  and  shook  his 
head. 

"You  come  up  here  and  I'll  promise  that  you  won't  be 
hurt.  I  want  you  to  take  back  a  report  to  that  gang  of 
yours.  If  you  don't  obey  a  master's  orders  and  come  up 
here,"  continued  the  captain,  pulling  a  gun,  "it  will  be 
mutiny — and  I  know  how  to  deal  with  mutiny.  I'll 
shoot  you  where  you  stand." 

After  a  little  hesitation  the  Finn  climbed  the  ladder. 
The  captain  led  him  into  the  wheel-house,  into  all  the 
state-rooms,  and  took  him  on  a  general  tour  of  inspection  of 
the  upper  deck. 

"Now  you  can  see  with  your  own  eyes  that  there  isn't 
any  gold  up  here  to  mutiny  about.  You  go  back  and  tell 
that  gang  what  you  have  seen — or,  rather,  what  you 
didn't  see."  He  pushed  the  Finn  to  the  ladder. 

435 


WHERE    YOUR    TREASURE    IS 

"I  give  you  all  liberty  to  hunt  over  the  lower  part  of 
the  steamer  from  forepeak  to  rudder,"  declared  the 
captain  over  the  rail.  "You  can  help  yourselves  to  all  the 
gold  you  find.  But  I  can  tell  you  that  there  ain't  an  ounce 
aboard  here.  That  gold  is  stored  where  you  can't  get  it." 
He  swept  his  hand  in  a  gesture  which  embraced  the 
horizon.  "If  you  act  like  men  from  now  on  until  this 
cruise  is  over,  you'll  be  paid  like  lords.  If  you  hanker 
for  mutiny,  start  in  and  mutiny.  Them  who  live  through 
it  will  never  get  a  cent;  them  who  are  killed  can't  use 
gold  where  they  will  fetch  up ;  it  will  be  too  hot  to  handle !" 

The  men  fell  to  muttering  among  themselves,  but  I 
could  see  that  they  had  been  cowed.  The  report  of  the 
leader  made  them  still  more  melancholy.  They  divided 
at  last — the  blacks  from  the  whites — and  went  about 
their  tasks. 

"I  want  to  say,  Sidney,  that  you  showed  good  judg- 
ment," said  the  captain,  as  he  went  to  his  state-room. 
"But  I  don't  feel  like  giving  three  cheers — not  while  that 
gold  is  back  on  the  bottom  of  the  Pacific  Ocean." 

Well,  there  was  gold  to  the  value  of  about  a  million 
yonder  on  the  bottom  in  that  wreck  of  the  Golden  Gate, 
but  I  had  no  appetite  for  more  gold  just  then.  I  knew 
that  I  had  reached  the  limit  of  my  strength  and  courage. 
I  had  won  more  than  two  millions  from  the  greed  of  that 
miserly  ocean,  and  had  given  it  back  again  in  order  to 
make  another  fight  against  the  greed  of  men. 

I  sat  on  deck  and  endured  the  pains  of  my  tortured 
body,  and  waited  for  the  inevitable  when  it  should  come 
down  over  the  horizon  from  the  north.  Half  a  dozen 
anxious  days  dragged  past — and  then  it  came ! 

A  trail  of  black  smoke  signaled  it — they  were  using 
lots  of  coal  and  were  in  a  hurry,  as  that  banner  of  black 
indicated.  Framed  in  Captain  Holstrom's  long  telescope, 
it  took  form  as  a  big  ocean  tug.  She  seemed  to  leap  angrily 
across  the  sea  as  the  surges  rolled  under  her,  and  the  bows 
churned  up  white  yeast. 

436 


There  was  no  hesitation  in  the  manner  in  which  she 
came  on.  She  bore  down  on  us  with  a  speed  which  seemed 
to  say,  "Here  we  come  to  take  our  own!" 

We  counted  at  least  a  score  of  men  aboard,  using  our 
glass.  And  when  the  tug  slowed  off  our  quarter  we  saw 
that  most  of  the  men  held  rifles  in  the  hook  of  their  arms. 

"It's  what  I  have  been  expecting,"  I  told  the  captain. 
"They  have  come  down  here  proposing  to  treat  us  as 
pirates.  How  would  you  feel  right  now  with  gold  aboard 
here?" 

Captain  Holstrom  wagged  his  head  mournfully,  and 
seemed  to  lack  words  with  which  to  express  his  feelings. 

"We  are  going  to  make  fast  to  you,"  bawled  a  man, 
with  a  voice  like  a  fog-horn.  "Mind  how  you  perform." 

That  was  a  reckless  performance  even  for  a  tug  in  that 
sea,  but  they  rigged  a  row  of  fenders  and  put  her  along- 
side with  much  clanging  of  bell.  A  dozen  men  leaped  on 
board  the  Zizania.  Some  were  guards  who  carried  rifles. 
There  were  three  men  who  seemed  of  importance.  I  spied 
Marcena  Keedy  on  the  upper  deck  of  the  tug,  holding  to 
the  funnel  stays.  He  did  not  venture  to  come  on  board 
us  with  the  others. 

"Let  them  do  the  talking,"  I  whispered  to  Captain 
Holstrom  as  the  three  were  climbing  the  ladder.  "Just 
stand  on  your  dignity  as  master  of  this  steamer."  And 
the  captain  did  so  in  a  way  that  highly  satisfied  me.  He 
chewed  a  toothpick  and  displayed  much  indifference. 

"I  bid  you  welcome,  gents!"  he  informed  them,  stiffly. 
"And  you  can  see  that  I  ain't  looking  for  trouble — other- 
wise I  might  have  a  few  words  to  say  about  your  way  of 
boarding  this  steamer.  If  it's  ignorance  of  rules  and 
etiquette,  I'll  overlook  it." 

"It's  business,  Captain  Holstrom,"  snapped  the  spokes- 
man, a  chap  who  wore  a  hard  hat  and  looked  as  though 
he  had  just  closed  a  desk  in  an  office.  "We  are  from  San 
Francisco,  and  represent  the  underwriters  in  the  matter 
of  the  Golden  Gate." 

437 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"Step  into  the  wheel-house — it's  my  office,"  stated  the 
captain.  He  pointed  to  the  muzzle  of  the  first  rifle,  rising 
over  the  edge  of  the  upper  deck.  "If  those  fellows  come 
up  here  I  shall  consider  it  an  insult  to  me  as  a  peaceful 
man  and  master  of  this  vessel." 

The  man  hesitated. 

"We're  no  pirates,"  remarked  Captain  Holstrom. 

The  man  gave  orders  to  the  gunmen  to  remain  below. 

"If  you  are  not  pirates,"  he  said,  when  we  were  assem- 
bled in  the  wheel-house,  "you  can  show  it  by  turning  over 
to  us  the  gold  you've  dug  out  of  the  wreck  over  yonder." 

The  spokesman  was  a  rather  excitable  fellow.  He  began 
to  tap  his  finger  on  the  captain's  breast.  He  showed  docu- 
ments with  seals  and  all  the  other  law-shark  trimmings. 

"You  have  no  right  to  come  here  and  operate.  Have 
you  got  attorney's  powers?  Have  you  got  anything  in 
the  way  of  permits?  No,  you  haven't.  That  gold  belongs 
to  other  people.  Give  it  up  and  save  trouble." 

Captain  Holstrom  threw  a  sort  of  helpless  look  at  me, 
stifling  some  emotion.  I  realized  that  he  was  at  the  end 
of  his  dignity  and  that  in  about  ten  seconds  he  would 
begin  to  use  his  talents  in  the  line  of  profanity. 

" Excuse  me  if  I  say  a  word  here,"  I  broke  in.  "I  am  a 
partner  in  this  enterprise." 

"You're  using  a  polite  word  for  this  kind  of  a  job," 
sneered  the  man. 

"You  may  represent  the  underwriters,"  I  said,  "but 
to  all  intents  and  purposes  the  underwriters  had  aban- 
doned the  treasure." 

"We  shall  take  our  gold,  my  friend!" 

"Rights  or  no  rights?" 

"You  have  made  it  a  grab  game,  and  we're  in  on  the 
grab!"  He  was  mighty  overbearing  and  offensive.  Law 
was  behind  him,  a  fortune  was  concerned,  and  he  was 
showing  the  usual  spirit  of  the  greedy  world. 

"  You  have  full  powers  in  this  matter  so  far  as  the  under- 
writers are  concerned,  have  you?"  I  asked. 

438 


WHERE    YOUR    TREASURE    IS 

"Absolute."  He  waved  his  papers  under  my  nose. 
"Issued  due  and  regular  by  the  court  and  the  United 
States." 

"But  don't  you  realize  that  you  are  not  in  the  United 
States,  sir?" 

"  There's  got  to  be  more  or  less  dog  eat  dog  in  this  game. 
We  happen  to  have  the  cards.  If  you  don't  hand  over 
that  gold,  we  shall  put  a  crew  on  board  this  steamer, 
guard  it  with  rifles,  and  set  this  boat  into  waters  where 
we  have  jurisdiction.  I'll  be  frank  to  say  that  then  we 
can  beat  you  in  court  in  the  lying  game,  because  we  start 
with  law  behind  us,  and  you're  handicapped.  I  say  this 
to  show  you  that  you'd  better  fork  over." 

I  was  holding  my  temper.  For  the  sake  of  my  own  con- 
science in  this  affair,  I  wanted  the  other  side  to  lay  all 
their  cards  on  the  table ;  in  their  insolence  and  confidence, 
they  seemed  inclined  to  do  so,  for  their  plain  intent  was 
to  intimidate  us. 

"What  do  we  get  out  of  it  for  ourselves?"  I  inquired, 
meekly. 

"Remember  that  you  came  down  here  on  the  sly, 
thinking  you  were  going  to  get  away  with  the  whole 
thing.  It  hasn't  been  your  fault  that  you  haven't.  I 
think  that  we  can  promise  to  keep  you  out  of  the  peni- 
tentiary if  you  act  sensible.  I'm  not  making  any  rash 
promises." 

There  we  had  it!  Contemptuous  disregard  of  all  our 
rights  because  they  thought  they  had  the  upper  hand 
on  us! 

I  have  hinted  before  this  that  men  become  monsters 
in  the  presence  of  much  gold.  From  my  own  experience 
I  knew  the  insanity  which  gold  stirs  in  a  man.  I  had  fore- 
seen some  such  attitude  as  this  on  the  part  of  the  men 
who  would  come  to  claim  the  treasure.  A  grab  game,  eh? 
And  success  to  the  best  man ! 

I  looked  at  that  fellow — at  his  white  hands  and  his 
flabbiness — a  man  who  had  never  done  an  honest  day's 
29  439 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

labor  with  grit  and  muscles.  He  had  given  me  his  code. 
I  told  him  as  much. 

"And  I  thank  you  for  giving  me  that  code,"  I  went  on. 

I  stripped  the  bandages  off  my  hands.  I  tore  the 
wrappings  off  my  feet.  I  showed  them  sights  which 
made  their  faces  turn  white.  I  ripped  the  shirt  from  my 
back  and  exhibited  that  spectacle  of  ragged  flesh. 

"You  have  given  me  your  code,  I  say!  It's  going  to  be 
a  grab  game.  All  right!  Have  it  your  way.  Go  hunt 
this  steamer  from  top  to  bottom.  You're  welcome! 
Prove  that  we  have  any  of  your  damned  gold!  Go 
ahead!" 

I  hobbled  out  of  the  wheel-house  and  went  into  my 
state-room,  and  they  began  to  hunt  the  Zizania  over. 
And  I  heard  what  Captain  Holstrom  said  to  them  after 
they  had  finished. 

"Now,  gents,  you  have  made  sure  that  there's  nothing 
on  my  Zizania  that  belongs  to  you.  You're  aboard  here 
without  any  rights.  I  just  want  to  remark  that  I'll  give 
you  five  minutes  to  get  aboard  your  own  boat  and  cast 
off,  and  stay  cast  off m  here,  yourselves.  I've  got  some 
men  who  can  fight — and  I've  got  a  two-pounder  in  my 
junk-heap.  I'll  put  a  ball  through  that  tug  that  will 
disturb  her  innards  seriously." 

They  went  silently  and  grudgingly — but  they  went.  I 
enjoyed  the  expression  on  Marcena  Keedy's  face  as  the 
tug  backed  off.  I  came  out  on  the  upper  deck  and  gloated 
down  on  him.  They  anchored  their  craft  a  little  distance 
from  us,  and  I  could  readily  imagine  the  council  of  war 
that  started  among  them  as  soon  as  their  mud-hook  bit 
the  holding-ground. 

A  boat  put  off  from  the  tug  next  day,  and  the  three 
important-looking  men  were  in  it.  But  Captain  Holstrom 
warned  them  away  from  us.  The  spokesman  shouted  his 
message.  He  was  angry,  and  he  still  dealt  in  threats. 
In  order  to  impress  upon  those  gentlemen  that  we  were 
not  at  all  interested  in  their  threats,  the  captain  and  I 

440 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

turned  our  backs  on  them,  and  after  a  time  they  bawled 
themselves  out  of  breath  and  returned  to  the  tug. 

They  kept  up  those  tactics  for  most  of  a  week.  They 
were  certainly  stubborn  and  insolent  persons,  and  they 
were  fighting  for  big  money.  But  the  more  they  raved  and 
threatened,  the  more  at  peace  with  myself  and  my  con- 
science I  felt.  We  were  fighting  for  our  own  now,  and  they 
had  established  the  code. 

Then  at  last  the  boat  came  with  a  white  flag.  The 
spokesman  politely  stated  that  they  had  come  to  talk 
some  business  in  private,  and  begged  to  be  allowed  to 
come  on  board. 

Miss  Kama  was  with  me  on  deck  when  they  climbed 
up  the  ladder.  She  had  resumed  her  woman's  garb,  and 
they  stared  at  her  in  frank  astonishment  and  admira- 
tion. She  did  look  particularly  sweet,  her  little  cap  on 
her  curls,  her  sweater  displaying  her  winsome  curves  of 
beauty. 

She  seemed  to  astonish  them,  I  say.  The  next  moment 
she  astonished  me.  She  walked  into  the  wheel-house  by 
my  side,  and  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"Gentlemen,"  she  said  to  the  three,  "you  have  seen 
with  your  own  eyes  how  this  poor  boy  has  suffered.  You 
can't  see  how  I  have  suffered  as  I  have  watched  him  do 
what  he  has  done,  but  the  marks  are  on  my  soul,  I  know. 
There  is  law  in  the  world,  and  all  that,  and  men  are  too 
apt  to  get  angry  in  law  when  there  is  much  money  con- 
cerned. Can't  you  all  keep  from  being  angry  to-day,  and 
be  wise,  and  decide  on  what  is  right?" 

They  looked  at  one  another  and  the  spokesman  stam- 
mered something  about  being  over  there  to  have  a  heart- 
to-heart  talk. 

"May  I  not  stay?"  she  asked,  wistfully.  "I  won't  say 
a  word  to  bother  you — I  won't  move  unless  you  start  to 
quarrel — and  then  I'll  only  remind  you  that  there's  a 
lady  present."  The  queer  little  smile  she  gave  them 
started  the  grins  on  their  faces.  The  ice  was  broken. 

441 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

Those  men  were  human  once  more.  The  girl  had  given 
the  magic  touch  to  the  conference. 

We  had  not  been  getting  anywhere  at  all,  in  the  past, 
and  we  woke  up  and  realized  it  as  we  stood  there  with  the 
girl's  presence  toning  us  down.  It  had  been  man's  bluff 
and  bluster;  they  had  arrived  ready  mad  and  I  felt  that 
I  knew  what  ailed  them  outside  of  the  mere  money  part 
of  the  thing. 

"Gentlemen,"  I  said,  "if  it  hadn't  been  for  Marcena 
Keedy's  tongue  you  would  have  shown  a  better  side  to 
us  when  you  arrived  here."  Nobody  seemed  ready  to  say 
anything  for  a  moment  and  I  went  on.  "  I  reckon  he  told 
you  that  he  was  our  partner  and  that  we  have  cheated 
him." 

"He  had  quite  a  story  to  tell  when  he  reported  the 
matter  to  the  underwriters,"  admitted  the  lawyer. 

"After  you  sized  him  up,  you  naturally  decided  that 
men  who  could  cheat  Keedy  must  be  the  champion  rene- 
gades of  the  Pacific  coast!  I  can't  blame  you  much  for 
the  way  you  came  banging  up  against  us.  I  don't  know 
what  else  he  has  said  to  our  prejudice,  and  I  don't  care. 
Now  that  you  are  here  with  us,  face  to  face,  and  we're 
down  on  a  real  man-basis,  we  don't  need  to  paw  over  what 
a  liar  has  said.  I  want  you  to  call  that  man  Keedy  on  to 
the  Zizania,  even  though  he  poisons  the  air.  What  I 
have  to  say  I'll  say  in  his  hearing." 

I'm  pretty  sure  that  Keedy  did  not  relish  making  that 
call,  but  the  men  who  went  after  him  brought  him.  He 
had  a  gambler's  face  and  nerve  and  he  put  on  his  best 
front;  he  even  disregarded  Miss  Kama's  presence  and 
lighted  a  cigar  to  appear  more  at  ease,  and  I  plucked  it 
from  between  his  jaws  and  flung  it  out  of  the  window. 

"I  want  the  floor  for  only  a  few  moments,  gentlemen," 
I  told  the  group.  "I'm  going  to  tell  you  how  this  ex- 
pedition was  organized,  how  this  person  Keedy  fitted  in, 
and  what  happened."  And  I  did  tell  them. 

It  was  necessary  for  the  lawyer  to  appoint  Capt.  Rask 

442 


WHERE   YOUR    TREASURE    IS 

Holstrom  as  special  guard  to  keep  Keedy's  mouth  shut 
while  I  talked,  but  the  rules  of  a  court-room  prevailed 
after  that. 

"I'll  admit,  gentlemen,"  I  said  when  I  had  finished  my 
little  story,  "that  we  have  acted  like  children  so  far  as 
the  legal  side  of  this  thing  goes.  But  it  seemed  only  a 
crazy  scheme  at  best  when  we  started  out — I  couldn't 
feel  that  I  was  dealing  with  any  reality.  After  we  arrived 
here  we  did  the  best  we  could,  and  we  have  been  too  busy 
to  study  up  law.  But  I  want  to  say  that  Captain  Holstrom 
and  I  are  not  thieves  by  nature.  I'll  show  you  a  thief, 
however.  There  he  stands!"  I  pointed  to  Keedy.  "He 
stole  from  us  a  box  of  bullion  worth  twenty  thousand 
dollars.  I  know  that  he  recovered  two  more  boxes.  Now 
that  you  are  proposing  to  handle  this  matter  man-fashion, 
Captain  Holstrom  and  I  stand  ready  to  give  to  owners 
what  is  fairly  their  own.  I  advise  you  to  ask  Keedy 
what  he  proposes  to  do!"  The  lawyer  asked  him  in 
mighty  prompt  fashion. 

"Up  to  date  nobody  seems  to  be  making  any  show- 
down except  in  talk,"  said  Mr.  Keedy.  "I'll  cash  in  con- 
versation just  as  far  as  anybody." 

"But  how  does  it  happen,  Keedy,  that  when  you  gave 
us  your  other  information  you  did  not  say  that  you  had 
any  of  the  gold  in  your  hands?"  asked  the  lawyer. 

He  scowled  and  did  not  answer. 

"If  these  men  turn  their  bullion  over  on  a  square  lay, 
are  you  prepared  to  do  the  same?" 

"I'll  talk  business  after  I  have  seen  them  turn  it 
over." 

"That's  a  rather  queer  attitude  for  you  to  take,  Keedy, 
after  your  talk  to  the  underwriters  and  to  me." 

But  the  renegade  did  not  show  any  inclination  to  come 
across  with  anything  definite. 

I  knew  well  enough  that  he  could  not.  His  try  with 
those  divers  had  cost  high  and  it  was  safe  to  presume  that 
he  had  realized  on  every  ounce  of  the  bullion  his  men  had 

443 


recovered  and  had  planted  the  money.  My  rancor  was 
deep  and  I  walked  up  to  him  and  declared  my  belief. 

"You  understand,  Keedy,  that  you  must  produce  the 
bullion  or  its  value  in  money  or  our  bargain  doesn't  stand," 
said  the  lawyer. 

I  did  not  need  that  declaration  to  be  assured  that  the 
villain  had  sold  us  without  regard  to  our  rights  or  our 
safety.  And  sudden  fervor  and  determination  thrilled 
through  and  through  me.  I  proposed  to  show  those  men 
from  San  Francisco  the  difference  between  Marcena 
Keedy  and  the  partners  on  whom  he  had  pasted  his  dirty 
label.  Mere  talk  was  not  as  convincing  proof  as  I  desired. 
I  had  already  made  an  investment  of  my  best  strength 
and  all  my  courage  and  I  had  much  to  show.  But  I  felt 
that  if  those  men  could  see  with  their  own  eyes  what  that 
investment  signified  in  the  way  of  human  endurance, 
they  would  meet  me  in  more  generous  spirit  when  we 
came  to  make  our  bargain. 

Up  to  then  the  legal  papers  had  only  been  waved  under 
my  nose  in  threatening  manner.  I  asked  permission  to 
examine  them,  and  the  lawyer  was  very  obliging.  They 
were  all-embracing,  even  to  granting  powers  of  attorney 
to  the  underwriters'  agents  to  handle  the  matter  in  all  its 
aspects. 

"Gentlemen,"  I  said,  "I'm  going  down  after  the  rest 
of  that  gold,  and  every  box  will  be  put  into  your  hands 
as  it  comes  up." 

I  got  a  glimpse  at  the  girl's  face,  but  I  did  not  dare  to 
look  into  her  eyes.  Her  cheeks  were  white,  and  she  was 
gasping  protests  which  nobody  heeded,  for  those  men  were 
listening  to  something  which  filled  their  ears  just  then : 

"And  after  you  see  how  I  am  bucking  hell  for  your 
sakes,  well,  then  we  shall  see  what  you  have  to  say  to 
me — man  to  man!" 


XXXVII 

THE  FRUIT  OF  THE  TREE  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

IF  what  I  have  just  written  sounds  as  if  I  wanted  to 
pose  as  a  hero  of  melodrama,  I  have  produced  a 
wrong  impression.  I  was  playing  a  big  game  and  I  was 
using  all  the  hard,  cold  and  calculating  wit  I  possessed. 
As  I  have  said,  I  proposed  to  operate  on  human  nature. 
After  all,  I  was  in  no  position  to  demand  anything  from 
those  men,  in  spite  of  the  bluff  we  were  making  in  regard 
to  the  treasure  we  had  recovered  and  concealed.  I  had  a 
healthy  fear  of  what  the  courts  might  do  to  us  in  a  case 
where  stolen  property  had  been  hidden.  It  was  up  to  me 
to  cultivate  a  spirit  of  generosity  in  them — and  that  was 
why  I  went  down  again,  though  every  nerve  and  fiber  in 
my  racked  body  made  protest.  But  I  went  down  under 
better  conditions. 

The  tug  had  powerful  pumps  and  a  considerable  quan- 
tity of  good  hose.  She  was  manageable  in  shoal  water, 
and  by  means  of  her  hawsers  and  well-set  kedges  we  were 
able  to  swing  her  in,  for  the  day's  work,  fairly  close  to  the 
wreck. 

There  is  no  need  of  further  dwelling  on  details — and  it 
would  be  necessary  to  supply  the  details  by  somebody's 
word  of  mouth — somebody  who  watched  me,  for  I  don't 
remember  much  of  what  happened.  I  was  a  lunatic,  I 
suppose;  my  human  machinery  was  operated  by  a  single 
mania.  As  I  look  back  I  am  unable  to  separate  the  night- 
mare from  the  reality  with  any  amount  of  clarity.  There- 
fore, we'll  allow  all  that  to  hang  in  limbo,  seeing  that  this 
is  a  plain  yarn  and  not  a  study  of  psychology. 

445 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

However,  I  can  remember  flashes  through  the  dark 
curtain,  and  of  a  few  of  these  I  will  make  mention,  for  they 
have  a  bearing  on  the  tale. 

There  was  a  period  when  I  was  in  the  mood  for  babbling. 
I  could  feel  my  dry  tongue  clacking  away  inside  my  jaws 
like  a  clapper  in  a  wooden  box  and  wholly  beyond  my 
control.  That  tongue  was  telling  all  my  story  about  my 
love  and  longing  and  ambition  in  my  boyhood  days — 
telling  the  story  to  somebody  who  patted  my  cheek  and 
crooned  sympathy — somebody  who  did  not  annoy  me  by 
dispute  when  I  said  that  I  would  never  live  to  see  Levant 
again — somebody  who  promised  to  carry  there  the  three 
rings  and  tell  my  story  and  fulfil  my  requests.  It  was  a 
dream  full  of  agony  for  me — rather  it  may  be  called  a 
dreaming  reality.  I  wanted  to  stop  that  clacking  tongue. 
I  wasn't  operating  it.  It  was  telling  a  lot  of  truth  which  I 
did  not  want  published.  It  was  putting  me  in  wrong,  I 
felt,  just  as  if  some  enemy  were  tattling  about  me.  It 
was  mine  and  I  hated  it  furiously  for  what  seemed  to  be 
betrayal  of  me.  I  wasn't  standing  for  what  the  tongue  said. 

Then  there  was  a  period  when  I  forgave  the  tongue 
many  of  its  past  offenses,  because,  at  last,  it  did  good 
service  for  me  in  man-talk  to  men.  It  was  steady  and  con- 
vincing and  I  was  conscious  that  it  had  helped  me  to  win 
in  some  big  matter.  Then,  later,  there  was  a  time  when 
there  were  shots  and  shoutings  and  dismal  trouble  of  some 
sort.  And,  last  of  all,  in  the  blurred  imaginings,  mixed 
with  the  real,  came  the  long-drawn-out,  misty,  groping, 
wondering  consciousness  that  I  was  out  of  strife  and 
trouble  and  agony.  But  I  could  not  come  out  of  the 
shadow — I  knew  that  many  days  and  nights  came  and 
went  while  I  was  trying  to  grasp  something  which  I  could 
know  was  reality. 

I  was  dreaming  that  I  was  back  in  my  old  room  in 
Dodovah  Vose's  tavern,  and  that  dream  seemed  to  last 
for  days.  Then  all  at  once  I  woke  up  and  I  was  truly 
in  that  room. 

446 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

By  the  open  window  sat  Capt.  Rask  Holstrom  and  he 
was  junking  up  a  Red  Astrachan  apple  with  his  jack- 
knife.  He  poised  a  cube  of  the  fruit  on  the  tip  of  the  blade, 
looked  me  square  in  the  eyes,  and  asked,  in  a  matter-of- 
fact  way,  if  I  was  feeling  more  like  myself  that  day. 

There  was  no  doubt  about  my  being  in  Dodovah  Vose's 
tavern!  I  made  sure  before  I  opened  my  mouth.  There 
was  the  old  quaint  smell  of  the  place,  and  I  could  always 
trust  my  nose.  For  my  ears  there  was  the  whining  squeak 
of  the  windmill  pump  in  the  stable- yard.  I  touched  the 
irregular  seams  of  the  silk  crazy-quilt,  and,  to  delight  my 
eyes,  the  brass  handles  of  the  ancient  high-boy  in  the 
corner  blinked  back  the  radiance  of  the  afternoon  sun- 
light. All  my  senses  were  satisfied,  for  I  could  almost 
taste,  as  the  breeze  flicked  my  lips,  the  savor  of  fried 
chicken  which  came  floating  in  through  the  window. 
And  after  my  senses  told  me  what  they  did,  I  felt  at  ease 
and  dismissed  all  the  shadows  and  imaginings.  Never 
did  a  man  come  back  to  his  right  balance  of  mind  in  more 
commonplace  fashion. 

I  decided  to  be  just  as  matter-of-fact  as  Captain  Rask. 
I  told  him  I  felt  pretty  fair.  Parts  of  my  hands  were 
bandaged  and  I  was  aware  that  my  feet  were  tied  up. 

"Have  another  apple?" 

So  I  had  been  eating  apples  from  Dodovah  Vose's 
orchard!  I  used  to  steal  from  his  trees — especially  the 
early-autumn  fruit.  I  must  have  been  giving  the  impres- 
sion that  I  was  pretty  nigh  all  right,  even  though  the 
kink  in  my  brain  had  kept  me  on  the  side-track  so  far  as 
I  was  concerned,  personally. 

The  captain  junked  an  apple  into  quarters,  pared  them, 
and  gave  me  the  fruit.  I  think  Eve  tempted  Adam  with 
a  Red  Astrachan! 

The  captain  sat  and  rocked  and  munched.  Confound 
his  old  pelt,  why  didn't  he  start  in  and  tell  me  what  had 
happened  ? 

He  clacked  his  knife  shut  after  a  time  and  yawned. 

447 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"So,  as  I  was  telling  you  before  you  had  your  nap, 
Kama  and  I  may  as  well  move  on.  There  isn't  much 
more  that's  sensible  we  can  do  for  you."  I  wondered  just 
what  they  had  done! 

"Where  is  Kama?"  I  called  her  "Kama"  quite  natu- 
rally; it  seemed  to  me  that  my  clattering  tongue  had 
been  that  familiar  for  a  long  time. 

"Oh,  I  guess  she's  just  resting  up  a  little  in  her  room. 
She  is  bound  to  be  nursing  you  most  of  the  time,  though 
you  don't  need  so  much  attention,  so  far  as  I  can  see. 
Do  you  know,  Ross,  in  spite  of  what  you  and  I  were 
saying  to  each  other  yesterday,  that  girl  o'  mine  still 
insists  that  your  mind  isn't  right,  and  that  you're  off 
the  hooks.  She  says  there's  something  that  hasn't  come 
back  to  you!" 

God  bless  that  girl's  intuition!  I  felt  the  tears  coming 
into  my  eyes. 

"Women  folks  are  always  seeing  something  a  man  can't 
see — because  it  isn't  there  for  him  to  see!"  declared  the 
captain.  "I  have  made  her  keep  her  mouth  shut  best  I 
could!  Nice  thing  it  would  be  to  have  it  go  out  in  busi- 
ness circles  that  you're  a  lunatic.  That  old  hippohampus 
uncle  of  yours  would  try  to  get  himself  appointed  your 
guardian.  He  makes  believe  to  be  a  great  friend  of  yours, 
I  know,  when  he  calls,  but  I  reckon  he's  only  hiding  that 
old  grudge  that  Vose  has  told  me  about.  There's  your 
friend,  Ross — Vose!  He's  the  old  boy  to  tie  to!"  I  was 
getting  considerable  information  from  Capt.  Rask  Hol- 
strom  without  weakening  his  confidence  in  my  sanity. 

"And  then,  outside  of  Vose,  it  has  really  been  a  good 
thing  for  you  to  get  back  here  near  your  girl,"  pursued  the 
captain.  "Now  you  take  Kama  on  that  point!  I  say 
women  folks  have  too  much  imagination.  When  you  told 
me  you  wanted  the  Kingsley  girl  to  stay  away  from  you 
till  you  was  fit  to  look  at,  why,  then  you  was  showing 
hard,  ordinary  common  sense.  In  spite  of  all  that  Kama 
or  anybody  else  said  about  her  coming  in  here,  I  done 

448 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

just  what  you  asked  me  to  do — for  I  believe  in  men  stand- 
ing by  each  other.  But,  as  I  have  told  you,  Kama  was 
bound  to  have  it  that  a  screw  was  loose  because  you  didn't 
want  your  girl  first  thing!  And  Kama  has  been  bound 
and  determined  to  hang  on  here  till  she  is  sure  you're  all 
right  with  your  girl.  But  I  can't  see  that  your  girl  is  in 
any  great  pucker  about  you!  She  hasn't  showed  up!" 

The  sweat  started  out  on  me.  Into  what  sort  of  a 
tangle  had  my  affairs  been  drawn? 

"But  I've  got  a  good  girl,  even  if  she  is  flighty  in  her 
thoughts — as  I  suppose  girls'  nature  is  about  this  lovey- 
dove  business.  I  used  to  sit  and  hear  you  talk  to  her  on 
the  Zizania  about  those  three  rings  and  that  girl  back  in 
Levant — all  mush,  mush  right  in  the  middle  of  that 
wind-up  job — and,  I  swear,  if  I  didn't  think  you  were 
crazy  then,  though  she  wouldn't  have  it  that  way!  Said 
you  were  all  right.  Kama  and  I  never  did  seem  to  agree 
very  well  on  much  of  anything.  After  the  settlement 
with  the  underwriters,  when  you  were  right  as  a  trivet 
and  wanted  to  stay  on  the  Coast,  then  she  insisted  that 
you  were  out  of  your  head — as  I  don't  mind  telling  you 
now  when  we're  going — and  she  fairly  picked  you  up  and 
lugged  you  back  here.  You  were  too  sick  to  help  yourself, 
you  know !  Made  me  help  her  do  it !  For  you  and  your 
girl,  said  she!  I  ain't  sure  but  what  you  was  a  little 
delirious  there  at  times.  But  being  here  with  Vose  has 
done  you  good.  However,  I  like  West  the  best.  So,  as 
I  say,  I  reckon  Kama  and  I  will  pack  up  and  start  back. 
Furthermore,  you  know,  I'm  summonsed  for  that  trial." 

I  merely  stared  at  the  old  gossiper. 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  too  hard  on  those  critters,"  he  said, 
musingly.  "There  was  a  big  temptation  and  Marcena 
Keedy  knew  how  to  stir  'em  up.  When  he  lolloped  that 
word  'gold'  around  in  his  mouth  he  always  made  me 
drool." 

Didn't  I  remember,  also?    Only  too  well! 

"  No,  I'm  going  to  use  some  discretion  in  my  testimony," 

449 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

Captain  Rask  chatted  on.  "I  have  been  running  over  in 
my  mind  what  happened.  Now,  if  you're  a  mind  to,  let 
me  kind  of  rehearse  it  over  to  you  so  that  you  can  check 
up  my  memory.  I'll  hate  to  have  any  law-sharks  tangle 
me  on  the  stand.  If  I  make  a  slip  catch  me  up  on  it." 

I  assured  him  that  I  would,  and  I  settled  back  in  bed 
with  great  joy  in  my  heart. 

He  gave  me  the  most  wonderful  story  I  ever  read  or 
ever  listened  to — wonderful  because  it  concerned  myself, 
my  friends,  my  hopes,  and  my  fortune;  wonderful,  be- 
cause I  was  in  it,  acted  in  it,  and  now  for  the  first  time 
was  hearing  what  I  had  done.  He  droned  out  the  hair- 
raising  narrative  without  showing  special  interest  in  it, 
confident  that  I  knew  the  happenings  as  well  as  he;  at 
the  most  interesting  point,  in  order  to  collect  his  thoughts 
in  regard  to  Marcena  Keedy,  he  stopped  and  pared  and 
munched  an  apple;  I  was  saving  my  own  face  in  the 
matter  and  I  did  not  dare  to  prod  him. 

I  am  not  minded  to  make  much  account  of  the  details 
of  that  story.  In  this  yarn  I  have  been  telling  what  I 
do  know — not  what  I  have  heard  from  another  man's 
lips.  Let  this  much  suffice:  I  recovered  the  rest  of  the 
Golden  Gate  treasure,  so  far  as  human  knowledge  of  it 
went,  the  jettisoned  gold  was  dragged  for  and  raised,  and 
then  mutiny,  which  had  been  secretly  organized  by  Keedy 
and  the  Finn,  developed  into  a  bloody  battle  which  had 
been  won  against  numbers  by  the  rifles  of  the  lawful 
guards.  Keedy  would  not  fight — he  had  prodded  the 
other  poor  devils  to  do  that — and  the  San  Francisco  men 
took  the  law  into  their  hands  when  the  Zizania  was  on 
the  high  seas  and  hung  Keedy  from  the  derrick  boom. 

So,  there's  enough  in  a  nutshell  to  make  quite  a  book 
by  itself! 

And  then  while  Captain  Rask  meditatively  wagged  his 
jaws  on  another  apple  I  lay  and  gnawed  my  nervous  lips 
and  wondered  how  much  money  I  had  in  the  world!  I 
did  not  dare  to  ask  questions.  I  felt  as  bitterly  fearful  as 

450 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

a  straitened  merchant  who  has  lost  all  run  of  his  bank 
credits  and  is  afraid  to  ask  his  bank  how  he  stands;  the 
fear  of  giving  one's  self  away  becomes  terror  pretty  vital ! 

"However,  I'm  going  to  pass  the  rest  of  my  days  with- 
out worrying  about  their  troubles,"  declared  the  captain, 
again  clacking  shut  his  knife  blade.  "They  brought  it  on 
themselves,  though  I  shall  swear  on  the  stand  that  Keedy 
toled  them  into  the  scrape.  You  and  I  did  right  by  the 
faithful  ones — especially  you,  for  you  could  give  out  a 
better  line  of  talk — when  we  pulled  that  hundred  thou- 
sand out  of  the  underwriters  and  added  it  to  the  hundred 
thousand  of  our  own.  They're  satisfied,  even  the  Snoho- 
mish  Glutton  in  his  new  restaurant,  and  Ingot  Ike,  who  has 
gone  to  board  with  him.  Clear  consciences — that's  what 
we've  got,  Ross!" 

But  how  much  clear  profit?  The  fact  that  we  had 
handed  out  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  was  a  consoling 
bit  of  information.  There  naturally  must  be  plenty  more 
where  that  came  from! 

"Do  all  the  folks  here — do  the  people  in  Levant  know 
how  well  we're  fixed?"  I  faltered. 

"Sure!  I  ain't  ashamed  of  it.  Are  you?  I  haven't  let 
the  yarn  lose  anything  by  the  way  I  have  told  it.  It  has 
been  a  good  way  of  killing  time." 

So  everybody  else  in  Levant,  except  myself,  knew 
how  rich  I  was! 

And  then  that  infernal  old  tiddlywhoop  yawned,  got 
up,  and  stamped  out  of  the  room,  saying  that  he  was  going 
to  stretch  his  legs.  I  didn't  have  spirit  enough  to  stop 
him  and  ask  the  great  question. 

I  don't  know  just  how  wild  I  looked  while  I  sat  there, 
but  I  know  I  felt  wild.  Then  Kama  Holstrom  came  into 
the  room. 

I  was  conscious  that  my  features  were  not  obeying  my 
volition.  I  had  not  been  able  to  make  that  clacking 
tongue  of  mine  behave;  now  my  face  was  just  as  diso- 
bedient. I  wanted  with  all  my  heart  to  beam  gratitude 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

and  joy  on  her,  but  I  seemed  to  be  trying  to  manage  a 
stiff  mask.  If  she  had  turned  and  escaped  in  sheer  fright 
I  would  not  have  blamed  her. 

I  entirely  mistook  the  expression  on  her  face  when  she 
stood  there  and  stared  at  me.  Her  eyes  were  wide  with 
what  appeared  to  be  terror.  Her  lips  parted  and  her 
cheeks  grew  pale.  Then  she  ran  to  the  side  of  the  bed, 
plumped  down  on  her  knees,  set  both  her  little  hands 
about  one  of  mine  and  cried,  "  Thank  the  good  God !  You 
have  come  back — you  have  come  back!" 

And  that's  how  a  woman  knows. 

The  balm  of  her  tears  bathed  my  hand  when  she  put 
her  forehead  down  and  hid  her  face.  It  was  not  white 
any  longer — the  warm  color  flooded  it  arid  I  ought  to 
have  been  content  for  a  time  with  what  I  could  bring  in 
the  compass  of  my  gaze.  But  I  wanted  to  have  a  blessing 
from  her  eyes,  and  when  I  struggled  to  lift  her  face  she 
suddenly  released  my  hand  and  hurried  to  the  window 
and  sat  down. 

"I  didn't  mean  to  make  a  fool  of  myself  that  way," 
she  panted.  "  But  when  I  saw  your  eyes  I  knew  you  had 
come  back — and  it  has  been  so  long — and  the  others 
haven't  understood!" 

"When  I  came  to  myself,  just  now,  Kama,  your  father 
was  here  and  I  didn't  confess  to  him.  What  I  know  now 
and  what  you  have  known  all  along  we  must  keep  to 
ourselves." 

"Yes!    Nobody  has  believed  what  I  was  so  sure  of!" 

We  sat  there  in  silence  for  a  long  time. 

"Do  you  remember?"  she  asked,  almost  whispering  the 
question. 

"Only  flashes.  Not  much.  But  your  father  has  just 
been  chatting  on,  and  now  I  have  the  story  without  his 
realizing  what  news  he  was  telling  me." 

I  was  the  first  to  break  another  silence: 

"I  know  from  what  he  said  how  faithful  and  self- 
sacrificing — " 

452 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"You  force  me  to  remind  you  how  mucn  we  owe  to  you, 
sir.  It  makes  me  very  uncomfortable.  It's  twitting  me  of 
a  debt  which  father  and  I  can  never  pay.  Please  don't!" 

So  there  was  conversation  closed  on  that  point;  I  did 
not  feel  like  making  Kama  Holstrom  uncomfortable. 

"It's  all  coming  about  just  as  it  should.  It  will  be  all 
right  from  now  on,"  she  said,  after  a  time. 

She  had  recovered  all  her  usual  serenity;  she  was  the 
girl  of  the  Zizania,  cool  and  distant.  I  was  irritated  by 
her  manner.  That  aloofness  was  not  a  square  deal  be- 
tween folks  who  had  been  through  what  we  had  suffered 
together.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  was  not  being  treated 
right — first  that  matter-of-fact  manner  of  Captain  Rask 
and  now  this  coolness  on  the  daughter's  part.  Her  first 
greeting  had  given  me  an  appetite  for  more  of  the  same 
sort.  Of  course,  I  didn't  expect  to  be  welcomed  back  from 
the  shadows  with  a  brass  band  and  speeches — but  some 
kind  of  hankering  or  dissatisfaction  was  gnawing  inside 
me  and  I  felt  ugly  and  cross  and  childish. 

"I  haven't  intended  to  go  too  far  in  anything,  sir. 
But  I  have  been  so  anxious  to  help  all  I  could — forgive 
me,  but  father  and  I  do  owe  you  so  much !  Don't  scowl  so ! 
I'll  not  mention  debts  again.  I  hope  you  won't  think  I 
was  too  eager — and  that  I  meddled.  But  I  went  to  her! 
I  did  not  want  her  to  misunderstand !  It  was  due  you  and 
due  myself — and  her.  So  I  have  explained  everything. 
I  have  told  her  the  story.  It  will  come  about  all  right — 
just  as  you  hope — I  am  sure!  I  did  not  intend  to  stay 
here — but  I  have  been  worrying  about —  But  now  you  can 
speak  for  yourself!" 

She  rattled  it  off  so  fast  I  couldn't  get  in  a  word.  She 
looked  relieved  when  she  had  finished — as  if  she  had 
been  carrying  around  something  very  disagreeable  and 
had  handed  it  over  to  somebody  for  keeps.  And  I  was 
obliged  to  wait  quite  a  while  before  I  dared  to  trust 
myself  to  reply  to  her.  What  she  had  handed  to  me 
seemed  to  be  about  as  gratifying  as  if  she  had  dropped  a 

453 


WHERE   YOUR  TREASURE   IS 

sea-crab  down  the  back  of  my  neck  and  then  sat  back 
and  expected  me  to  give  her  three  cheers. 

"Look-a-here!"  I  yapped.  "Where  did  you  get  the 
notion  that  I  wanted  you  or  anybody  else  to  act  as  my 
attorney  over  there?"  I  jerked  my  thumb  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Kingsley  house. 

"But  your  head  was  not  right — I  knew  it,"  she  stam- 
mered. "I  was  afraid  there  would  be  a  misunderstanding 
.—and  after  what  you  made  me  promise  on  the  Zizania — 

"Don't  you  know  that  I  was  as  crazy  as  a  coot?" 

"But  I  knew  that  deep  down  in  your  heart  you  must 
love  her." 

"A  crazy  man  doesn't  tell  the  truth." 

"Oh,  he  does  when  he  is  revealing  his  real  soul." 

"I  wasn't  revealing  any  soul.  I  was  babbling  away — 
and  I  knew  I  was  talking  fool  talk  and  I  couldn't  stop 
my  tongue.  I  didn't  mean  that  guff.  And  now  you  have 
got  this  thing  all  tangled  up  by  talking  to  Celene  Kingsley. 
I  can  do  my  own  love-making!"  That  temper  of  mine 
was  working  in  fine  shape.  And  Kama  Holstrom  was  no 
wilting  daisy  in  temperament! 

"  From  what  I  know  of  you  myself,  and  what  others — 
I  call  no  names — have  said,  you  are  about  as  well  qualified 
in  that  direction  as  a  catfish."  She  jumped  up  and 
stamped  her  foot. 

"But  I  know  now  what  love — " 

"  Mr.  Sidney,  you  have  just  insulted  me  because  I  tried 
to  be  your  friend.  And  your  sweetheart,"  she  sneered, 
"has  no  better  manners  than  you!  She  has  not  even 
thanked  me  for  bringing  you  to  her !  I  do  not  understand ! 
I  shall  go  to  her  at  once  and  tell  her  that  you  are  in  your 
right  senses  at  last.  After  this  you  handle  your  own  love 
affairs.  Don't  you  mention  the  word  'love'  to  me  again!" 

She  marched  out  and  banged  the  door  so  violently 
behind  her  that  all  the  brass  handles  on  the  old  high-boy 
were  left  jingling  shrilly — as  if  the  high-boy  had  gone  into 
a  spasm  of  giggles  over  my  comeuppance ! 

454 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

In  a  few  minutes  the  kindly  face  of  Dodovah  Vose 
appeared  at  the  door,  his  eyes  full  of  solicitude. 

"Fall  out  of  bed?"  he  inquired. 

"  No,  out  of  heaven,"  I  snapped.  He  came  in  and  shut 
the  door  and  showed  anxiety. 

"See  here,  son,  you  seem  to  have  a  turn  for  the  worse 
all  of  a  sudden.  You've  been  gaining  fine.  But  your 
eyes  look  crazy  to-day.  And  what  you  just  said — " 

Say,  I  came  nigh  bawling  out  Dodovah  Vose,  right 
then!  Nobody  seemed  to  know  anything  about  my  case 
except  Kama  Holstrom — and  she  knew  too  blamed  much ! 

I  rolled  myself  out  of  bed  and  stood  on  my  feet. 

"My  Lawd!"  gasped  my  old  friend,  "you  mustn't  do 
that.  It's  against  her  orders.  You're  sartain  out  of  your 
head!" 

"  Don't  you  worry  one  mite  about  my  knob,"  I  shouted, 
cracking  my  scarred  knuckles  against  it — and  the  pain 
in  the  knuckles  made  me  all  the  uglier.  "I'm  not  going 
to  be  nursed  and  fussed  over  any  longer.  I  have  been 
nursed  too  much  already.  They're  even  nursing  my  own 
private  business — and  making  it  sicker  all  the  time. 
From  now  on  I'm  going  to  tend  to  my  own  affairs.  Mr. 
Vose,  help  me  get  these  bandages  off  my  feet!" 

He  stood  back  and  flapped  his  hands  and  protested. 
I  knew  he  felt  that  I  had  become  a  lunatic,  and  so  I  con- 
vinced him  by  walking  up  and  giving  him  a  good,  sane 
stare. 

"  Do  you  think  I'm  going  to  stay  in  bed  the  rest  of  my 
life — a  man  who  has  so  much  to  live  for  as  I  have?" 

"That's  right — a  man  who  is  wuth — " 

At  last  somebody  was  going  to  post  me  on  my  financial 
status — satisfy  my  wild  eagerness  to  find  out!  And  I 
stopped  him. 

"Shut  up,"  I  fairly  barked.  "I  don't  want  to  be  re- 
minded of  that  every  five  minutes.  Excuse  me,  Mr. 
Vose.  But  get  my  clothes." 

I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  only  one  voice  in  all  the 

30  455 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

world  should  tell  me  what  my  sacrifice  had  wrung  from 
the  Pacific  for  my  own  self!  Silly  notion,  eh?  No  matter. 
I  felt  that  a  certain  pair  of  lips  would  bless  the  informa- 
tion when  it  passed  them. 

A  half -hour  later  I  was  dressed  after  a  fashion.  I  walked 
down-stairs,  or  it  may  be  better  to  say  that  I  scuffed  and 
skated  down,  for  I  could  not  squeeze  my  feet  into  shoes 
and  was  provided  with  a  pair  of  Dodovah  Vose's  slippers — 
carpet  affairs  with  a  hectic  rose  on  each  instep. 

I  found  Captain  Holstrom  on  the  porch  with  my  uncle 
Deck;  their  chairs  were  tipped  back  and  they  were  con- 
fabbing in  most  amiable  fashion.  My  uncle  grinned  at 
me,  and  I  floundered  for  words  because  I  wasn't  sure  what 
I  had  said  to  him  prior  to  my  awakening  or  just  what 
our  diplomatic  relations  were.  His  grin  encouraged  me. 

"Damn  it,"  he  ejaculated,  "I've  said  right  along  it  was 
best  for  you  to  be  up  and  around.  But  Cap's  girl  would 
have  it  t'other  way.  Feel  all  right,  sonny?" 

"I'll  feel  better,  Uncle  Deck,  if  I'm  sure  that  you  and  I 
will  never  have  any  more  misunderstandings.  As  we 
have  said — " 

I  stopped  there  and  waited,  figuring  that  I  had  left 
about  the  right  kind  of  an  opening  to  find  out  what  we 
had  said.  My  uncle  arose  and  clapped  my  shoulder. 

"Sonny,  I  tell  you  again,  now  when  you  stand  man- 
fashion  in  front  of  me,  that  the  night  when  I  took  my 
first  trick  at  sitting  up  with  you  we  fixed  it  all!  For  I 
found  out  how  yqu  felt,  underneath,  about  him!  And 
about  the  whole  proposition!"  He  nudged  me.  "I'm 
taking  my  comfort  these  days  watching  him.  No  more 
liberty  than  old  Potter  Crabtree's  clay-grinding  hoss — 
around  and  around  in  an  everlasting  circle.  I  hope  he'll 
live  long  enough  to  pay  his  debts — that  means  a  con- 
siderable stretch  of  enjoyment  for  me.  I  wouldn't  trig 
his  wheel  for  all  the  world!" 

That  was  how  it  stood,  eh?  And  I  let  it  stand,  for  I 
wasn't  just  sure  what  my  private  sentiments  were  in 

456 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

regard  to  Judge  Kingsley  at  that  time.  Furthermore,  I 
had  some  very  special  business  of  my  own  on  my  mind. 
I  turned  to  Captain  Rask. 

"Where  is  Kama?" 

"Reckon  she's  over  saying  good-by  to  your  girl." 

My  uncle  stared  at  me — I  must  have  been  telling  him 
things  when  he  sat  up  with  me. 

Saying  good-by!  Then  she  probably  had  told  her 
father  that  she  was  ready  to  go  away.  I  started  across 
the  village  square,  sliding  along  in  my  huge  slippers  like 
a  man  walking  on  snow-shoes.  I  banged  the  big  knocker 
on  the  front  door  of  Judge  Kingsley's  mansion  and  the 
maid  admitted  me.  I  was  not  bashful  that  day — I  walked 
right  into  the  sitting-room. 

If  I  am  any  judge  of  expressions  I  did  not  interrupt  any 
amiable  and  confidential  te'te-a-tete.  The  two  girls  rose 
and,  after  a  few  moments  of  constraint,  Celene  Kingsley 
asked  me  to  be  seated.  I  told  her  that  I  preferred  to 
stand;  I  reckon  that  I  wasn't  sure  that  I  could  sit  down; 
the  stiffness  of  the  whole  situation  made  me  feel  as  if  I 
did  not  have  any  joints. 

"I  have  finished  my  errand,"  declared  Kama.  The 
red  was  in  her  cheeks  and  there  was  no  encouragement 
for  me  in  her  eyes.  "I  will  say,  Mr.  Sidney,  that  I  have 
apologized  to  Miss  Kingsley  for  meddling  in  matters 
between  you  two.  I  thought  I  understood  and  I  have 
tried  to  help.  I  deserve  exactly  what  I  have  received! 
I  assure  you  both  that  I  will  keep  out  of  the  way  after 
this."  She  started  for  the  door,  but  I  was  standing  where 
I  could  block  her.  I  supplemented  my  interference  by 
an  appeal  to  the  lady  of  the  mansion. 

"Will  you  ask  Miss  Holstrom  to  remain  for  a  moment?" 
I  entreated.  And  Miss  Holstrom  did  remain,  biting  her 
lower  lip  with  impatience. 

"I  haven't  had  much  time  for  thinking  on  what  to 
say,"  I  confessed.  "I  don't  know  how  to  talk  to  ladies 
very  well,  anyway." 

457 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

My  face  was  flaming — I  could  hardly  control  my  voice — 
I  felt  sure  that  I  was  committing  a  dreadful  sin  in  point  of 
etiquette  and  all  that — but  once  more  I  was  playing  a  big 
game  in  my  life — bigger,  even,  for  the  sake  of  my  happi- 
ness than  when  I  offered  to  go  down  after  the  remainder 
of  the  treasure  of  the  Golden  Gate.  I  was  operating  again 
on  human  nature — and  that  nature  was  in  the  complex 
little  personality  of  Kama  Holstrom  who  pressed  im- 
patiently at  my  elbow,  frowning  at  me.  I  knew  with  all 
my  heart  and  soul  that  unless  she  stood  in  the  presence 
of  Celene  Kingsley  and  myself — as  she  then  stood — and 
heard  the  truth  about  my  boyhood  folly,  my  cause  was 
lost;  because  the  pride  of  a  girl  makes  the  way  of  a  man 
with  a  maid  a  mighty  doubtful  proposition. 

"May  I  hope  that  you  have  found  out  that  I  am  not 
the  scoundrel  you  believed  me  to  be?" 

"  I  know  the  truth  now.  My  father  is  wiser !  I  am  try- 
ing to  find  words — " 

She  hesitated,  just  as  if  she  did  not  know  what  she 
ought  to  say  to  me,  and  I  could  not  blame  her  for  feeling 
pretty  uncertain.  She  looked  at  me  with  a  sort  of  kindly 
and  tolerant  expression — but,  good  heavens,  there  wasn't 
any  love  in  her  eyes!  I  had  found  out  what  love-light 
was  like  when  Kama  Holstrom  kneeled  beside  my  bed 
that  afternoon! 

As  I  have  confessed  and  have  shown,  I  was  pretty  much 
of  a  blunderer  in  affairs  with  women.  But  do  me  this 
credit  in  your  estimate :  I  had  not  come  into  the  presence 
of  Celene  Kingsley  that  day  harboring  any  more  illusions 
as  to  how  I  stood  with  her.  I  was  awake!  Think  back 
with  me!  Never  had  she  given  me  a  word  of  affection. 
Rather,  her  tolerance  of  me  had  been  plainly  inspired  by 
her  zeal  in  her  father's  behalf.  After  that  piece  of  brazen 
idiocy  of  mine,  when  I  had  taken  her  in  my  arms,  she  had 
been  careful  to  keep  out  of  my  reach.  Allow  me  to  say 
that  I  had  been  doing  some  swift  and  coherent  thinking 
on  my  way  from  the  tavern. 

4S8 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE   IS 

In  my  soul  was  the  shamed  consciousness  that  I  had 
been  making  a  real  thing  out  of  a  dream — and  had  been 
babbling  unwarrantably.  I  was  a  pitiful  object  as  I  stood 
there  between  them — I  deserved  punishment  at  the  hands 
of  both  of  them.  For  I  had  made  free  with  Celene 
Kingsley's  name  and  had  misdirected  Kama  Holstrom's 
devoted  obedience  to  a  promise. 

I  say,  I  knew  with  all  my  heart  and  being  that  I  had 
never  struck  a  spark  of  real  love  from  the  condescending 
nature  of  Judge  Kingsley's  daughter;  I  knew  that  I  loved 
Kama  Holstrom  with  all  the  tender  devotion  one  pours 
forth  to  the  true  mate. 

Yet  I  dared  not  say  a  word  lest  I  should  appear  as  an 
atrocious  cad  seeking  release  from  the  old  love  before 
taking  on  the  new. 

Equally  did  Celene  Kingsley's  high-bred  delicacy  re- 
strain her  tongue ;  I  understood  that  she  did  not  want  to 
betray  me  as  a  mere  cheeky  boaster. 

So  we  stood  there  looking  at  one  another,  three  as  un- 
happy specimens  of  humanity  as  there  were  in  Levant 
that  day. 

"  I  am  too  much  of  a  fool  to  know  what  to  say  and  how 
to  say  it,"  I  blurted,  and  the  tears  ran  down  my  cheeks. 

It  was  Celene  who  stepped  into  the  breach;  she  wasn't 
in  love,  and  she  was  cooler  than  the  other  two  in  the  party. 

She  walked  up  to  Kama  and  took  her  hands  in  caressing 
grasp. 

"Don't  you  understand,  dear?" 

"No,"  faltered  the  poor  girl. 

"I  hoped  you  could  understand  without  obliging  me  to 
speak.  I  hoped  you  would  guess  when  I  refused  to  dis- 
cuss certain  matters  with  you — I  made  you  angry,  and 
I'm  sorry." 

"  I  know  I  meddled— " 

"My  dear,  I  understood  you  all  the  time !  I  understood 
my  old  school  friend,  too!"  She  reached  out  her  hand 
and  drew  me  close  to  Kama.  "He  has  been  very  noble 

459 


WHERE   YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

in  his  help  in  a  great  trial  in  my  family,  dear!  I  owe  my 
happiness  to  him.  And  I'm  speaking  out,  rather  boldly — 
rather  bluntly,  because  I  want  to  help  him  in  obtaining  his 
great  happiness.  I  know  what  must  happen  to  make  him 
happy."  She  put  Kama's  hand  in  mine.  "Now,  my 
dear,  do  not  force  me  to  disparage  one  of  the  best  young 
men  I  have  ever  known  by  telling  you  that  I  never  dreamed 
of  him  as  a  husband — nor  was  I  anything  else  to  him  except 
a  school-day  fancy,  a — " 

"An  inspiration  to  set  me  on  the  way  to  make  some- 
thing of  myself,"  I  insisted. 

"And  now — say  it,  Ross  Sidney,  or  you're  a  coward — 
say  it,  and  let  me  hear  it!  She  deserves  it!" 

"I  have  found  out  that  real  love  differs  from  boyhood 
fancies — and  I — I — want  to — " 

She  gently  pushed  us  toward  the  door  while  I  was 
stammering. 

"You  want  to  tell  a  dear  girl  the  sweetest  story  in  the 
world,  Ross  Sidney!  My  blessing  on  you  both.  Good 
night!" 

We  did  not  speak  to  each  other  for  some  time  after 
we  were  out  of  doors  together.  I  took  her  arm  in  gentle 
manner  and  led  her  steps  away  from  the  tavern.  We 
could  see  its  lights  in  the  early  dusk,  and  I  wanted  to 
keep  away  from  lights  for  a  time. 

I  was  glad  the  autumn  dusk  had  settled — a  sliver  of 
new  moon  was  a  comforting  sight  for  a  lover. 

"I  guess  neither  of  us  knows  very  well  how  to  talk 
about  love,  Kama,"  I  told  her,  hobbling  along  beside 
her  as  best  I  could.  The  judge's  orchard  was  shaded  by 
the  evening's  gloom,  and  when  I  turned  down  there  she 
did  not  resist. 

"I'm  sure  I'm  mighty  awkward  about  making  love," 
I  went  on,  "but  God  knows  I  want  to  learn  how." 

"Why  do  you  think  I  can  do  any  better  as  a  tutor  in 
love  than  as  an  attorney?"  she  asked. 

"Because  I'll  be  such  a  willing  pupil,  dear." 

460 


WHERE    YOUR   TREASURE    IS 

"I  heard  you  inform  Miss  Kingsley  with  a  great  deal 
of  earnestness  just  now  that  you  have  found  out  what 
real  love  is  like."  She  couldn't  keep  all  the  naughty  teas- 
ing from  her  tone,  though  her  voice  trembled.  "Who  is 
the  fortunate  one?" 

Then  I  caught  her  to  me,  and  with  her  warm  cheek 
close  to  mine  and  her  lips  near  and  never  denying  caresses, 
I  told  her  and  I  convinced  her. 

"I  think,"  she  admitted,  after  a  long  time  and  after 
many  words  there  in  the  blessed  shadows,  "that  you 
are  entitled  to  your  diploma,  Ross.  You  are  showing  me 
that  you  know  more  than  your  tutor.  But  is  there  a 
woman  who  is  not  jealous  when  she  is  in  love?  Here!" 
She  pressed  into  my  hand  a  little  packet ;  it  contained  the 
three  rings.  I  drew  her  along  to  the  cleft  tree.  I  dropped 
them  into  the  hollow. 

"One  for  fancy,  one  for  folly,  one  for  the  freakish 
dreams  of  boyhood!"  I  told  her.  "All  buried!  Come 
back  to  the  tavern,  precious  girl!  I  want  you  to  tell 
Dodovah  Vose  how  to  decorate  the  parlor  for  the  wed- 
ding!" 

She  reached  on  tiptoe  and  plucked  two  apples  from  the 
old  tree.  She  gave  one  to  me. 

"An  apple  of  gold  from  the  only  woman  in  the  world," 
I  said. 

" Don't  say  'gold'  to  me,  Ross!  Don't!  A  boy  of  your 
age  with  half  a  million  safe  in  the  bank — " 

There  was  my  news  at  last!  I  kissed  the  lips  which 
told  me! 

Then,  eating  the  sweet  fruit  of  our  new  knowledge  of 
life  and  of  each  other,  we  went  on  our  way  up  through 
the  whispering  trees  toward  the  welcoming,  glowing 
windows  of  the  old  tavern. 


THE    END 


NOVELS  OF 

WILL   N.    HARBEN 

"His  people  talk  as  if  they  had  not  been 
in  books  before,  and  they  talk  all  the  more  in- 
terestingly because  they  have  for  the  most 
part  not  been  in  society,  or  ever  will  be. 
They  express  themselves  in  the  neighborly  par- 
lance with  a  fury  of  fun,  of  pathos,  and  profan- 
ity which  is  native  to  their  region.  Of  all  our 
localists,  as  I  may  call  the  type  of  American 
writers  whom  I  think  the  most  national,  no 
one  has  done  things  more  expressive  of  the  life 
he  was  born  to  than  Mr.  Harben." 

WILLIAM  DEAN  HOWELLS. 

ABNER  DANIEL 

ANN  BOYD    Illustrated 

DIXIE  HART.    Frontispiece 

GILBERT  NEAL.    Frontispiece 

MAM'  LINDA 

JANE  DAWSON.     Frontispiece 

PAUL  RUNDEL.     Frontispiece 

POLE  BAKER 

SECOND  CHOICE.     Frontispiece 

THE  DESIRED  WOMAN.  Frontispiece 

THE  GEORGIANS 

THE  NEW  CLARION.    Frontispiece 

THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH 

GALT.    Frontispiece 
THE  SUBSTITUTE 
WESTERFELT 

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